Potions and Pirates
by LostCoastlines
Summary: Hermione is spending a year in an untouched, beautiful part of Europe when a visit to a small island takes an unexpected turn and sweeps her into a life full of potions, pirates, adventure and captain Draco Malfoy... And maybe she'll find love, too. H/Dr
1. Chapter 1

Hi soo. I'm reaaallly new to fanfiction, I don't even know how the beta people work and all that shizznit :D soo it would be awesome if you gave me a little advice, PLEASE, and explain all this stuff. Anyways. Have fun with my story, it's the first fanfiction I've ever done, but please tell me what I can do to improve. Sorry if there are any grammatical errors - those bother me a ton and I try my best to avoid them. This chapter may be a little tedious, but I have to start somewhere, right? :P please continue though, it would mean a lot :3

Disclaimer: JK ROWLING owns Harry Potter. I am very jealous.

***

Hermione Granger looked out the window of her small house overlooking the cerulean sea, smiling in content. She was living a lovely life. It had been five years since Harry defeated the Dark Lord, and she was fresh in her twenties. She had aided in the defeat, of course, and so did Ron, but Harry deserved most, if not all, of the credit. It was his strength and courage and belief that he _could_ do it that saved them all. It had been a tough, struggling battle, and Hermione didn't want to think about how or what the world would be like if he hadn't defeated Voldemort, if somehow Voldemort had destroyed Harry... she pushed the thought out of her head, shaking it slightly. The wizarding world had been saved, and it would do her no good thinking about what _could have_ happened. Harry carried on to be a professional Auror, catching the remaining death eaters who had gone into hiding after the fateful day when Harry prevailed. He was a busy chap - it was probably to take his mind off being so young and seeing too much. Thank god Ginny was always by his side to keep him company – they were hardly ever seen without each other.

Hermione's smile faltered slightly. As much as she loved living the single life, sometimes she wondered what it would have been like if Ron and her hadn't split up - if they hadn't agreed that their lives were just too different for them to keep up a relationship. After the war, Hermione was immediately asked by the Ministry to work in the Department of Magical Substances, a new department that had been solely created for people like Hermione and Professor Snape, who thrived on creating new potions and concoctions that would help the wizarding world.

Ron tried to be an Auror like Harry, but had been immediately discouraged from the job - he was too bulky, too clumsy, and his spell work and wizardry was just not up to par. Unfortunately, his tester, Kingsley, had compared him frequently to Harry, and after his failure, Harry and him weren't as close anymore - Ron believing that Harry had once again, stolen the limelight while he was left jobless. This was still while Ron and Hermione were dating, and the two months in which Ron looked for a job put their relationship on the rocks. Hermione stuck by him the entire time, though. When Ron finally got back on his feet he decided to be a quidditch star, and he trained for months until he was finally accepted into Puddlemere United - not his first choice but a good team nonetheless. He broke up with Hermione shortly after, telling her that he just didn't have the time and he didn't want the commitment.

Hermione had been slightly shocked; seeing as she had stuck by him the entire time he had been jobless - but agreed anyways, not wanting to make a fuss. The spark _had_ snuck away from their relationship and left them confused and not exactly happy with the way things were going. That was the end of Hermione and Ron. They kept in contact, but it was tense and forced. It seemed the Trio was splitting up – they were all growing up and leading different lives that didn't interact with each other that much. Harry and Hermione still saw each other at the ministry occasionally, but Ron was gone most of the year. All three were still featured in the news every now and then - Hermione for her brilliance, Harry for a new capture of an old death eater, and Ron for his keeping abilities.

It had been a couple years since Ron and her had split up, and she still missed the feeling of a man holding her close while she slept. She kept up a few relationships, however none lasted more than four months. After the last rocky breakup with her muggle boyfriend Dan, Hermione decided not to stir up any more romantic feelings and devoured her work, shutting out the public world for a few months to work on her latest potion. Oddly enough, Snape and her had gotten rather close as they constantly worked on potions together - Snape was still his oily, greasy, hook nosed self, but it wasn't as terrible as before and he gave Hermione the most respect he could muster from his dried out heart, thanks to her brilliance at potions. Together, they had created and patented more than twelve new potions.

Working at the ministry had its setbacks, but the pay was good and they were offering Hermione and Snape both a year off. After all, they deserved it, having just completed their toughest potion yet, a little monstrosity called the Interrogation Concoction which allowed a trained Ministry representative to enter the mind of a criminal for a specific amount of time, depending on how much of the potion they drank. It allowed them to go through every single memory without a single complaint from the criminal, including being able to see what spells the criminal had used, where, when, and what spells had been used upon him. It was a perfect way to find out whether one had been under the influence of the Imperious Curse. It also allowed the one entering the other's mind to see WHO had cast the spell upon him, which would help find many wizards who had used illegal curses or whatnot. It was dangerous and still needed to be tested out, but everyone was extremely impressed, and the ministry decided that it was time for Hermione to take a break.

So here she was, in a little cottage in a far away mountain range, overlooking the sea with a beautiful view. The sunset was beautiful and the sunrise was even more breathtaking, and it was this kind of peaceful serenity that put Hermione's mind at ease and allowed her to forget the loss of loved ones and the terrible ordeal her, Ron, and Harry had been put through in their sixth and seventh year.

It was January fourteenth, the start of the second week she had arrived, ready to start her new life. There was a little muggle village community just two miles down from her house that was tiny, but it had just the right feel to it and everyone was just so friendly that Hermione loved it at once. News spread like wildfire about the new girl who was moving in - not many people moved to this part of Europe, so far away from civilization. The village was quaint, with cobblestone paths and little coffee shops on every corner. It was perfect that one shop, called the Bootsleg, was run by a little squib called Maylline and had all the magic ingredients that Hermione would ever need if she wanted to make a potion (which she did not). Maylline had immediately recognized the famous Hermione, but she promised she wouldn't tell a soul about her whereabouts. Hermione was simply here to relax for a year, make friends, and learn how to fish and sail and have the happiest time of her life. Maylline was a subscriber to the Daily Prophet and sent a copy up to Hermione of the day's news every morning after she was done reading it.

Hermione looked at the Daily Prophet that her owl, Persephone, had just brought up to her from the Bootsleg. She felt terrible as she looked on the front page of the newspaper, where a bold caption read: MISSING OR ON VACATION?

_What a terrible name for a title_, Hermione thought to herself. It had been written by a Thomas Welson, a name that didn't ring a bell, so she skimmed over the article quickly.

_Hermione Granger, 21 year old Ministry worker, has been reported missing by her close friend Harry Potter, who said he haven't seen her recently and she hadn't been returning his calls. The Ministry was quick to jump too the young woman's defense, claiming that the young witch was simply on her year long sabbatical. "Where she went is none of the Ministry's concern," Peter Svhilck snapped when being asked. "Sabbaticals are for professors who wish to leave they're work for a little bit and enjoy some peace and quiet. Wherever Hermione is, I'm sure that she doesn't want to be disturbed."_

Hermione's mouth dropped slightly at the horrendous way Thomas Welson wrote and his numerous grammatical errors - the prophet was hiring anyone they could find these days. Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry's obvious discomfort at her not replying his calls, but deep inside she felt a surge of pleasure that although Harry and was very busy, he had enough time to worry about his friend. She'd give him a call later on, telling him what happened and where she was, even though she really didn't want to. She enjoyed having people worry over her - it let her know that people still cared. But realizing how selfish her thoughts were, she blushed and began to write a letter to Harry, explaining where she was and why she was there.

Soon, a novel length letter rolled out in front of her and her fingertips were dotted with blue ink and she had a splotch of it on her nose and some splattered over her pretty white blouse. She had lost herself explaining how beautiful the mountains were and how the birds sang. Hermione smiled lightly. It would probably stop Harry from trying to come in contact with her for a couple weeks, knowing how happy she was here. Plus, Harry was spending as much time as he could juggling Ginny and his job. They were the cutest couple, like Oliver Wood and Katie Bell. Hermione finished sealing the letter shut and handed it over to Persephone, who took off quickly. Hermione didn't bother to send Ron a letter - if she told Harry, he'd tell Ron quickly. They weren't best friends anymore since the Auror incident, but they were still mates.

Hermione opened the Prophet to the next page and skimmed over it. It had little interesting news, nothing big going on since the defeat of Voldemort. She was just about to close it when a knock shook her door. Curious as to who would visit her, she quickly set the newspaper down on her desk and swiftly ran to the door, peeping out of the peephole. It was Maylline, her blonde hair waving around her face as the wind gently blew.

"Maylline!" Hermione exclaimed, opening the door and smoothing down her ink ridden shirt, causing the ink from her fingertips to stain it even more.

Maylline let out a little laugh, letting herself in. "If I were a witch I'd have those ink splotches cleaned up in a jiffy," she said almost sadly.

Hermione blushed and took her wand out of her back pocket, muttering a quick cleaning spell that made her face, blouse, and hands clean. "What are you doing here, May? I thought you had to run your shop? It's only 3:30,"

May waved her hand dismissively, walking over to the comfy blue striped couch that Hermione had conjured up when she was cleaning through the house. "No worries, I had Clayton look after it for a while."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Clayton... your cat?"

May nodded. "He's very responsible, that cat. Anyways, have you seen the papers? The first page had the cutest picture of you on it! And did you check out page six? All about those dirty pirates that have been killing people everywhere they go. Although they're not technically bad, are they, since the people they kill all turn out to be ex-Death Eaters, eh? It's funny how many of those dirty scumbags live close to water these days - perfect targets for those nasty Pirates eh?"

Hermione chuckled lightly. May had a very large mouth, and she wouldn't stop talking whenever she was around Hermione. It was probably because of the lack of wizards or witches who passed by this area, meaning May had no one to talk about the Wizarding World's events with besides her cat, Clayton. May was a loveable thirty something year old woman with a bright, smiling face, a slight accent, and blonde hair that was usually tied in a loose bun. Hermione waved her wand and a pot of tea appeared on the stove and a plate of biscuits appeared on the coffee table in front of May and Hermione. She summoned the newspaper and flipped to page six.

"Pirates, huh?" Hermione muttered.

Since Voldemort's demise, the Aurors weren't the only ones who were out looking for ex death eaters. A group who called themselves pirates were also after death eaters - however, they wouldn't just capture death eaters and send them to Azkaban, like the Aurors would. They murdered them in cold blood, sending a sign in the air that was far too similar to the Dark Mark for people to be comfortable - a skull and bones hovering above houses. After that, they looted the houses and took off with the gold. They were becoming widely known, but the Ministry had yet to take action. Along most costal villages, towns or even bustling cities, if you mentioned Pirates, the usual eye patched, peg legged bearded man didn't come into mind. The name struck terror into the hearts of many, as although the pirates mainly targeted ex death eaters, they also plundered many houses and towns along the coast for fun, hurting people who got in their way. They used magic, so they were obviously wizards, and they DID capture hostages – however only a few. They had released one, a young girl called Mary Evans, a few months prior to the article Hermione was currently reading, and she had been interrogated by the Ministry. Hermione had been there because they were using one of her potions on her. Hermione remembered her words perfectly clear.

_They were lovely,_ Mary Evans had said emotionlessly, after the potion had dripped into her mouth. It was a watered down version of Veritaserum, making the taker display her true feelings about, in Mary's case, the Pirates she had been captured by. _They treated me like royalty and they were all so handsome and fit and I wanted to stay with them forever. I grew attached to one young man, and when I told him I loved him they threw me overboard because none of them wanted to get attached to any woman ever. They didn't tell me any of their plans but they were hospitable and they did not hurt me once. They wanted me because of my skill with potions, they asked me to help heal some of their wounded men. At first they threatened me if I wouldn't, but I wanted to. I wanted to do anything to impress him._

They asked who "him" was - who did Mary Evans want to desperately impress?

And she had replied with these words, the words that rattled around Hermione's brain and made her feel weak.

_A man about my age, tall, with these beautiful, piercing grayish blue eyes that could see right into my soul, and white blond hair that was tied in a braid. They wouldn't tell me his name and he was so young, I was surprised that he was captain. He had the face of an angel, carved and marble and simply stunning._

The first person that sprang to Hermione's mind was Draco Malfoy. He fit the description quite perfectly, with the eyes and the hair, however, "nice" didn't fall into his category. He was cold and evil and terrible and would kill with cold blood. Yet… not only was the physical description correct, but Draco Malfoy had been disowned by his stepmother, who married Lucius after Narcissa died, and had disowned Draco after Lucius died, leaving all the money and the Malfoy name to her - making it possible that Draco had abandoned everything and joined a band of pirates. Unlikely, but it was just a thought... It had been shocking and sudden and the wizarding world felt a pang of sympathy towards Draco Malfoy as he had been through so much being a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix, but there was nothing they could do. Draco disappeared shortly after that and had not been found or seen since. He was still talked about frequently in the wizarding world - he was a major topic of gossip because he was an attractive young bachelor, but more intellectual wizards and witches were searching through his past constantly to find some way to relieve him from his disownment.

Hermione remembered when he had been disowned; it was all over the WWN, the wizarding wireless network, and she had watched the entire three hours of it. She remembered his proud and haughty look as his stepmother legally disowned him at court and she recalled his face as he walked through the roaring crowd (mostly made up of women, his fan crowd) - the best poker face she had ever seen, not revealing anything. Although he had just been disowned, he still radiated mystery and power, definitely more than his stepmother, who looked ugly and disgusting when she was angry (she was half veela, and they got ugly when they were angry).

"What do you think of them, May?" Hermione asked as she skimmed over the article which talked about some ex death eater called Carter Porst who's family had just been found dead with the Pirate sign hovering above their house.

"Of the Pirates?" May thought for a moment before answering. "Eh, I suppose they're alright, you know? Helping rid the wizarding world of all those nasty buggers who were on Voldie's side, but they could do it a little more nicely, like that bloke Harry Potter and his team do you know? Bring them to the interrogation room before cutting the heads off! But you remember that girl, that Mary Ellens?"

Hermione swallowed lightly. "Mary Evans, the one who got away from them?" She tried to keep her voice casual.

May nodded. "I'm know a friend of hers and she told me that Mary absolutely adored the Pirates and she just moved to a little cottage like this one overlooking the ocean and put signs up saying Take me away, Pirates! or something crazy like that."

Hermione laughed. "I really doubt that," she shook her head, turning the page of the newspaper, where a large image of the pirate's ship sailing over water came into view with a whole article about how they were still trying to find who was the captain and how to contact them.

She trailed her hand along the moving picture, musing how the black and white pictures didn't do the gorgeous ocean justice. She turned the page, unaware that if the picture had actually been in colour, the first thing that would've caught her eye would've been a small figure climbing the sail, his white blonde hair reflecting the sun and if he turned, she'd see piercing gray eyes and a familiar smirk.

***

What do you think?

xxLC


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews :) It's nice to have positive feedback, and that you for pointing out my errors as well, I'll try to fix them next time. Mmmmm this is the second chapter :)

Oh I have a question; I'm repainting my room, and I'm deciding between three colors: lavender, baby blue or a lightish lime green colour? If you'd take the time out of your busy schedule and just let me know which one would best suit a room, I would appreciate it greatly :D also, I'm getting new furniture (it's like a whole room makeover! :3) and carpets, so no worries with matching colours... yet.

DISCLAIMER: JK ROWLING.

***

A month passed and Hermione was spending her time at the beach, cooking, fishing, eating, or sailing. She had met most of the small town's inhabitants, and had befriended even more people with her laughing eyes and her genuine smile. Life was falling into a lovely routine that Hermione never wanted to break.

She'd wake up at sunrise, in time to see the sun rise in the horizon as it lit up the waves in a glorious display of color. Then, she'd have breakfast, read the news that Persephone would bring her from May's, and then walk down a lovely little path to the beach, where she would sit, read and tan until lunchtime. For lunch, she'd drive to town and cook at a local restaurant (she offered), where she learnt all kinds of trade secrets. Hermione had a secret longing of learning to cook without magic, and it turned out she had quite a talent. Moving on, after lunch she'd sit and eat and gossip with the women of the restaurant - May, Lisa, Roxy and Joanne. After lunch, she'd go fishing and or sailing with Ben, a cute waiter at the restaurant that had quickly befriended the pretty brunette. After the sailing was done, it would be around five or six, perfect timing to watch the sunset, and then May would come over to her little cottage and teach her more cooking secrets, and that would be the end of her day. She told stories about her days of school to all the muggles (leaving out everything about magic, of course). She told them about her mother and father and her arch enemy at school, a boy who called her names and hated her and all her friends. She explained about the houses in her "boarding school" and about the segregation between them. Hermione mostly focused on the fun parts of school and it relaxed her mind remembering the good times she had and she found herself enjoying the little town more and more.

Hermione woke up on February 2nd, feeling as if life couldn't get any better. She was a lovely golden brown color, and the steep climb down to the beach had toned her slender body. She smiled as she thought about Ben, the cute guy she'd met. He was perfect, with black hair and a cheeky smile, and he was brilliant at sailing. He contributed to her good mood greatly, because today, he would be sailing them over to a little island off the coast. Hardly anybody had been on the island before because it was "hidden" from most eyes. Hermione's inquisitive, scholarly nature overtook her and she brought a clipboard and various devices she could use to take down plant specimens or any other new objects she would find.

Ben knocked on her door at precisely 9:35 am, grinning his cheeky smile that had many older women in the town swooning.

"Are ye ready, lass?" he asked in his strong Scottish accent, reminding her greatly of Oliver Wood.

Hermione was wearing a pretty green sundress with a black bikini underneath - it was daring, but she wanted to get to know Ben better and perhaps today would be the day. Hermione giggled to herself, thinking of how she resolved to stay away from romance - but she couldn't help being swept away by this charming young man.

"Never been more ready in my entire life," she nodded, "Just one second though, let me go and grab my bag."

She slipped inside and ripped her sunflower dotted waterproof bag off the counter, tucking her wand safely inside the pocket of a jacket she shrugged on atop her sundress. She met Ben outside once more, admiring how the sun played with his black locks, and they were off, climbing down to the patch of beach where his small, two to three person sailboat was moored.

As they walked along the pretty path, they exchanged light conversation, and soon the topic strayed to Ben's childhood. He had been born on the mountains, overlooking the town, and he went to a boarding school a little bit away with the money his parents had saved from fishing and farming. He had dropped out after "highschool", a term that Hermione recognized to be of a period of the last four years in a young muggle school. He went back to his homeland and carried on the family business, which was a small bakery in the bigger town down south. However, he was here for two months, visiting his grandparents who lived in the countryside.

The breeze played with Hermione's hair and she combed a stray lock behind her ear. Her hair wasn't bushy, as Malfoy liked to taunt in her schooling days - at least it wasn't anymore. It was simply... big, but it wasn't unattractive. Hermione mused this fact as Ben and her chatted along the path towards the beach. She wasn't unattractive but there was nothing special about her, nothing that singled herself out from other girls (besides her huge, puffy hair, of course, but she wouldn't take that into count). She wasn't tall or lanky like those voluptuous models that adorned the catwalks, but small and slender - she often went as far as to think weak. Because of her small stature and small limbs and small everything, Hermione prided herself in being smarter than all the other girls and being top of the class constantly. She liked feeling like she was on top, and since she couldn't do it with looks, she would do it with sheer willpower, elegance and intellect. And that's what she did - she loved knowledge and learning and being smart and knowing things.

The boat was lovely. Hermione had been on it a couple times, and he had taught her how to sail it decently well. She stepped in the water until it was up to her thighs and clambered over the side of The Marianne, Ben's boat, laughing as he unmoored it and slipped as he was doing so, drenching his shirt with water, and stripping it off. Hermione swallowed and looked away, trying not to get distracted by his sculpted body and toned chest, licking her lips and suddenly feeling very hot and self-conscious. However, Ben put on another shirt and smiled at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

"Makin' ye nervous, am I, lass?" Ben grinned roguishly, and Hermione felt her stomach flutter with the boldness of his statement.

She grinned and looked away, not answering but feeling like her silence just confirmed it.

Ben chuckled and ruffled her hair as the wind caught in the sail he had just unfurled and began to tug the small boat away from the coast. The scenery was gorgeous, cliffs rising on either side of them and towering in the distance; the sea was a gorgeous turquoise colour that sparkled like a sheet of diamonds as the sun bounced off the rolling waves. The wind tugged at the boat, leading them at a steady pace and Hermione felt her heart lost in this lovely new world that was so peaceful and so different from her bustling life in London. The only sound she could hear were the seagulls chirping and the sound of her beating heart as Ben manned the boat from the back. She turned back at him, her face radiant.

"This is gorgeous!" she laughed.

"No' as gorgeous as you, Hermione," Ben smiled.

And Hermione was content.

***

An hour later, they reached the beautiful, small island that Ben had spent the previous fifteen minutes telling her about. It rose out of the water, towering above the little boat that expertly sailed around it. Ben explained that it was something like a tropical kind of island – there was a little bit of beach surrounding the entire island, and the beach turned into thick vegetation a few meters later. They hopped out of The Marianne about six meters before it got too shallow.

"Are you sure it'll stay? Wont the waves pull it away?" Hermione asked, looking back at the bobbing boat.

"Ach, it'll b' fine, lass, don'tcha be worryin' now," Ben laughed. "It'sa well secured."

Hermione, clutching her sunflower bag above the water so it wouldn't get wet, made her way towards shore. The sand was grainy underneath her flip flops and the crystal water swirled around her thighs, getting lower and lower as they approached shore. It wasn't a terribly big island, she deducted. The boat had circled around it once, quickly, before finding the perfect part of beach to let it rest, and it hadn't taken very long.

Hermione made it to shore and gasped in wonder. The beach was pristine white, with no footprints on it whatsoever. There were a few scattered pieces of wood, but nothing out of the ordinary. However, she DID feel something odd, the telltale sense of magic, swirling around the air. Hermione had read books about how some of the islands scattered around this area were full and throbbing with magic, as they were hundreds of years old and untouched by most humans, but she never thought that she would be able to explore one. Her curious nature overtook her, and she blew out a sigh. With Ben here, she couldn't just run off and start jotting down all the magical plants she found, right? But if Ben had been here before, wouldn't he have noticed something was off about this island? What if there had been Swamping Vines, vines that shot out of swamps (hence the name) and grabbed you and pulled you into swamps? What about the fauna of the island? What if there were magical creatures that Ben had seen? It was dangerous, as he was a muggle and had no idea how to defend himself. Also, if word got out about a magical creature he found? Well, to put it lightly, the Ministry wouldn't be very happy. Hermione's mind buzzed as she sat down on the sand, pulling out a large checkered blanket and setting it down.

"Wowwwee, where'd ye ge' the space ta pu' tha', eh?" Ben asked in admiration, looking at the giant blanket Hermione had settled over the sand.

"Oh!" Hermione laughed, waving it off. "I have a big bag, that's all. And very good packing skills." She didn't include how she had placed an enlargement charm on the bag that allowed her to put as many things as she wanted to without it being heavy or too big.

Suddenly, a flurry of movement in the edge of the vegetation caught her eye, and she turned around to look at the sudden movement. Her eyes widened in shock. It was a semion, a magical creature that was almost extinct. It resembled a miniature lion, however they had marginally smaller ears, and two curled horns that protruded from above the eyes. Also, their fur was pure white, besides the stomach and mane, which were both an aqua blue. This little one was playing along the side of where the vegetation was, and it was only a baby. Hermione recalled reading about these curious, rare magical animals. The young semion mewled quietly, opening its mouth and letting a royal purple tongue emerge along with a puff of what seemed to be white mist.

Those two things, the tongue and the mist, were the cause of the semion's near extinction. Its tongue was a very potent poison when ground up, however, it was a delicacy when sliced and fried. The mist that the semions produced, when bottled, could be used as a substitute in almost any potion and when used it high dosage could produce very powerful results. They used to be farmed for their tongue and their mist, but they quickly began to die out, as they were heavily inbred. Now, only a few of them remained.

Hermione knew this would be one of her only chances to see a semion. If she followed it back to its mother or den, maybe she could get the Ministry to issue a warrant for the protection of these almost extinct animals. She had two choices: to stay with Ben, talk about frivolous things that she probably wouldn't remember in a year, or two: go and see this semion, possibly the only one she would ever see in her entire life.

She quickly made her choice, feeling guilty and slightly angry with herself for being able to choose so quickly. Hermione apologetically turned to Ben, pulling out her wand silently. "Petrificus Totalus!" she thought in her mind, having trained in nonverbal spells for a long time.

Ben stiffened as the curse hit him and fell onto the sand, completely bound. Hermione put a sleeping charm on him quietly and also a quick-stick spell so he wouldn't roll away or anything. She felt guilty, but as she turned and saw the semion begin to lope away, the guilt dissipated almost immediately and she darted after it, casting a concealment charm over herself to not startle the semion. For extra measure, she also cast a silencing charm over her feet to not make sound, and a de-smelling charm so her smell wouldn't attract any unwanted visitors OR alert the semion to her presence. Just in case.

She tore through the underbrush, chasing the young semion as it nimbly hoped along the branches and vines growing on the dirt floor. Hermione noted almost everything was a magical plant or some sort of magical fauna - she recognized almost each and every plant she saw, thanks to hours reading in the common room about plants and animals. She reminded herself to come back and look for all of these plants later, and to scribble down everything she saw in her Quick Notes Notebook (thanks to Anna Mesber, Rita Skeeter's much less sly and definitely better liked cousin). The semion seemed to speed up and Hermione almost growled in annoyance as her steady pace had to increase dramatically.

Some fifteen minutes later, Hermione was panting and sweating and feeling a lot nastier than she should've been. The bloody semion was not slowing its pace and was tearing through underbrush, spinning circles around Hermione and causing her to take several sharp turns. She almost felt like giving up and going back to Ben and unfreezing him - however she knew that this was her chance to SEE the semion! And a full grown semion possibly, too! How wonderful would that be? That thought pushed her on and she kept running, feeling twigs crack under her bad choice of footwear. A little bit later, Hermione found herself stumbling back onto the sand where she first came out, but something had drastically changed. The semion darted back into the forest, but Hermione didn't seem to notice. She was too shocked.

First of all, The Marianne was no longer the only boat to be harbored by the shore: there was another one close to it, a more wooden, worn down, smaller boat. Four men were circling the beach and one was still in the boat, though he seemed to be getting out soon. They were dressed very oddly, with white tunics hidden under billowing robes of a navy blue color, and high, almost knee high black boots. Hermione kept her mouth shut as she backed back into the forest, feeling her back connect with a tree.

Hermione crouched in the shadow of the large tree near the edge of the vegetation, watching in anticipation. Who were these people? Why were they dressed so strangely? If they had been a couple, for example, Hermione would've jumped up and immediately started introducing herself. However, five burly men who looked like they all could kill someone without blinking made her feel like she should just hide in the trees and watch silently.

_Stop profiling! _she muttered in her mind. _Maybe they're very nice people._

She looked at Ben, lying motionless and stiff as a board, and felt slightly guilty. One of the men went up to him and prodded him with his boot, chuckling slightly. When he didn't move or react, he kicked him harder. _Real nice,_ Hermione thought. Ben was completely vulnerable and she wasn't doing anything to help him. Maybe if she cast a protection charm or some sort of concealment charm (as you can tell, Hermione loved those charms), he'd have a better chance of surviving? She wasn't too far away; she'd be able to hit him easily, and without a sound. She could also attempt to hit the big man, too, with a stunner, and maybe even the other four...

She opened her sunflower bag and pulled out her wand, unaware of the shadow creeping up behind her. She drew back her arm to take aim when a gloved hand firmly caught her small wrist. How could this person see through her concealment charms? She was shocked still for a moment before gathering her wits and jerking wildly to turn around, twisting her neck at an odd angle, trying to glimpse her captor. However, something long and hard poked into her neck (a wand, get your mind out of the gutter), and Hermione stopped moving immediately. She'd rather not have her head blown off.

"If you were attempting to stun my men, I'll advise you now - that would be a very, very bad idea," a somehow slightly familiar, silky voice drawled.

***

Feedback please ^^

xxLC

Kay, will someone please tell me how to add an extra space between paragraphs? :( I keep trying but when I save the stoopid thing they just all disappear, and you're right, it is cramped :(


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and most of the characters belong to JK ROWLING :)

Chapter Three

_She opened her sunflower bag and pulled out her wand, unaware of the shadow creeping up behind her. She drew back her arm to take aim when a gloved hand firmly caught her small wrist. How could this person see through her concealment charms? She was shocked still for a moment before gathering her wits and struggling to turn around._

_"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a silky voice drawled._

***

Hermione felt something dig into the side of her neck and she knew that whoever was grabbing her wrist had his wand pressed into her neck, ready to fire if she did anything funny. She felt her heartbeat speed up as the man none too gently tugged her to her feet and pushed her into view, causing her to stumble and land on her knees.

She gave a small yelp and quickly regretted it. She had just caught the attention of the five burly men, and they were approaching her quickly and quietly, leering smiles on their faces.

"Wait, you filthy beasts," the cold, drawling voice commanded from behind her. He kicked Hermione's butt sharply and she stumbled forward, getting a face full of sand. "She's not harmful. Just a stupid witch in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"But Captain!" one of the men protested. "I haven't had a good round in the sack in forever!"

Murmurs of agreement filled Hermione's ears and she filled with dread. If "round in the sack" meant what she thought it did, she was royally screwed. She steeled her nerves and decided what she would do, even though she would probably be caught in the end.

"No, Leslie," the cold voice snapped. "Look how tiny she is. She'd probably break the first time you entered her. Guess you'll just have to keep using your hand."

The men doubled over in laughter. Hermione didn't find it funny at all. Her mouth dropped open in embarrassment and disgust. To just openly talk about this crude, revolting stuff – how... how unsophisticated! And she wasn't _tiny._ She had taken tae kwon doe classes one summer - bracing her mind, she leapt up from the sand and turned as quickly as she could, deciding how tall the 'captain' was and attempting to punch him in the face. Sadly, her estimates were slightly off but she still gave him a solid cuff in the throat, sending him stumbling backwards.

He didn't seem hurt in this slightest, but he did seem surprised and caught off guard. Her knuckles popped on impact and she took another step and suckerpunched him in the stomach, saying _engravosso_ in her mind, which made her punch ten times stronger. The captain doubled over, surprised and caught off guard at Hermione's sudden attack. She took off, sprinting across the sand and sending stupefy's behind her every other second.

After her fourth stupefy, she heard a thump and a grunt. Yes, her first hit. The men were chasing after her and yelling obscene things. If they caught her… she suppressed a shiver and kept on running. Then she heard something that chilled her to the bone.

The man, the captain, she had struck was gaining, and gaining fast.

"Drop back!" he commanded to the other wizard/sailors. "She's _mine."  
_

_***  
_

Hermione squealed in fear and veered to the left, breaking through the leaves of a tree, and found herself running through the forestry green that the island held. This time she wasn't looking out for magical flora and fauna, but instead she was running for her life. Hermione could hear the cracking and grunting of the man behind her, and she kept firing stunning spells back at him. She did not hear any loud thumps and the sounding of running was getting louder. She kept missing her target, and each time she turned to shoot she was losing more and more time. Suppressing another whimper, she carried on running through the trees, ducking under vines and dodging large, odd-looking plants. Who knew how skilled the captain was at magic? If she turned and faced him, she could fire maybe a couple shots, but he could always deflect them if he was a decent witch. What spells what spells? Hermione was at a loss and she felt panic grasping her heart. This wasn't some dream she could wake up from. She was trapped on an island with a scary man chasing her who would probably kill her if she gave him the chance. Why wasn't he firing any spells, though?

A jet a red beam shot straight over her shoulder and she got her answer.

"Stop running, little witch!" the cold voice called mercilessly. He didn't even sound like he was beginning to feel tired. "I can keep running like this forever, but you - you'll give up soon! Stop running, witch, and I may spare your life!"

Hermione pointed her wand behind her without looking at shouted _ENLARGO. _There were a few popping noises and a muffled curse, and Hermione dared a glance behind her. Large vines and roots and a whole tree trunk had grown in the path behind her, trapping the captain behind her. She didn't pause for breath and kept running, feeling sweat drip down her brow and a familiar clamping in her legs. How long had she been running for? Fifteen minutes?

_God I am so unfit! _she moaned in her head.

She stopped for a moment and turned to face the path she had just barreled through, breathing heavily. It was a bad idea. As soon as she raised her eyes, a blurred _thing_ slammed into her, sending her flying back about ten feet. However, she did not fly alone. The _thing,_ whatever it was, was still clutching her around her stomach and landed like that, on top of her as they skidded along the dirt.

Hermione was winded, and the weight on her stomach, chest, and thighs were not helping her regain her breath. Her eyes weren't focusing and she was almost hyperventilating. Breathe in, out, in out. She struggled feebly to rid the weight on top of her, which seemed to be a human being - the _captain?!  
_

 She let out a scream that was nothing more than a puff of breath, the weight was so heavy. She wiggled her arms, struggling ineffectively, and tossing her head from side to side. When she finally stopped, and weight above her shifted. The first thing she noticed was how close their faces were - his nose was a mere inch above hers. She almost went crosseyed trying to focus. The next thing - he had piercing grayish blue eyes, icy and mysterious and blazing at the same time. Long, pale eyelashes. A straight, aristocratic nose and skin smooth and pale over high cheekbones. And the full lips curved up into a smirk that was so familiar - Hermione's eyes widened as the pieces clicked in her mind, all the facial features finally assembling to make a real _face.  
_

The little breath she had in her lungs whooshed out as she recognized him, and it hit her that their position was quite provocative - he was somewhat sitting on her lower stomach, his legs on either side of her stomach, bent as if kneeling. His arms were on either side of her head, propping him up but not so much, his chest was still pressed flush against hers. And their faces were almost touching.

_Draco Malfoy _was straddling her, Hermione Granger. _Straddling.  
_

_*** _

Draco's eyes scanned over Hermione's body for a brief moment before finally resting on her face again. He pulled back, away from her nose, although he was still straddling her. Hermione could feel the blood pounding through her body where their bodies met - but it was from disgust, she told herself. It had nothing to do that she could feel his lean and muscular stomach pressing against hers, or that his hips were very close to being directly on hers.

"Granger?!" Malfoy spat disbelievingly.

His eyes had flickered from muddled to confused, then completely shocked, and then downright livid. He leapt up and away from her as if he was burned.

Hermione sucked in a giant breath, still feeling limp and disorientated. She propped herself up on her elbows, sucking in precious air.

Draco was looking at her and looking back. He had hopped back on his feet quickly, his long blond hair catching the sun, making it shine like a halo around his fine features, which were twisted into deep thought. Hermione judged that he was probably thinking of the fastest way to dispose of her. Oh god, oh god.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" He snapped, pointing his wand at Hermione's ruffled form.

Hermione was too shocked to do or say anything. She couldn't believe it… the _chances_… How could this happen? There was no way that the man pacing before here could be _the _Draco Malfoy nobody had heard from in god knows how long.

He gave a frustrated growl, furrowing his brow. "_So_ unnecessary," she heard him mutter. After a few tense, silent seconds, he began to get edgy and fidget.

"What the- bloody hell - never expected - this - stupid-" Draco muttered to himself, pacing around the dirt floor, his brow furrowed in thought. "Maybe…no… but we _need –_ no. Should I?"

Hermione looked at him nervously and shifted her position very gently, to be able to spring up from the ground, give him a big kick in the groin, and sprint. She would run back to The Marianne, even if it meant fighting the five – now four, since she stunned one – men who were waiting there. She would rather take her chances with them then with this highly unpredictable, dangerous man.

"No, _you_ sit back down." Draco commanded. He was a very commanding man. He pointed his wand and Hermione felt herself forcefully bent back over, till she was sprawled on the ground once more. Crude… but effective.

She glared at him and tried to say something but she couldn't open her mouth. Sodding Malfoy. If looks could kill, Draco Malfoy would be ten feet underground – but here he was, walking in little circles, his boots crunching over fallen leaves and broken twigs.

He looked different, Hermione thought to herself. She'd look over him now so she could tell where his weak spots were. Purely professional, she told herself, purely professional. He was wearing navy robes above a white button down shirt that almost seemed fancy, with a neat collar that was open and intricate swirls along the buttons. A large, rather ostentatious belt held up his slacks, which disappeared into large, brass buckled boots, which nearly went up to his knees. Hermione's mouth dried as she saw the large black gun tucked into his belt. Draco Malfoy, with a muggle killing device? What had happened to him this past seven years?

He sure filled out well, a rebellious part of her mind leered. Hermione's eyes widened at the stray thought and she squashed it quickly - too late, her cheeks were already heating up. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ mind. She was in no place or state to be thinking about her possible killer's attractiveness.

He definitely had, though. His shoulders were broader and he was leaner, sleek but still muscled - she felt that when he had been lying atop of her. His hair was long, and plaited, falling down to his lower back, and secured with a black piece of string. It was still the color of white gold - that interesting lightness that always singled him out back at Hogwarts. However, it was no longer slicked back and stiff, but long and silky. It seemed so soft and light that Hermione wanted to reach out and - WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Hermione snapped at herself. This was Draco Malfoy, her sworn enemy since she was eleven years old. It didn't matter if he was never truly bad but always on the good side, as he was always a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix – he disappeared for five or so years, and was likely very dangerous.

She struggled against his invisible hold, but quickly stopped as he turned to face her, his gray eyes alight.

"Hullo Granger," he smirked evilly. "How would you like to become part of my crew on the Mare Maris Bellator?"

Hermione's mouth would've dropped if she weren't under that stupid curse.

Draco gave his wand a flick and Hermione found the binds on her had released. She collapsed onto the ground below.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked nervously. "I don't think I heard you correctly…"

She _did_ hear him correctly, though. Her heart was about to palpitate through her chest. For once, Hermione really had no idea what she was going to do. She looked around, praying for some poinstoads, a poisonous mushroom that if squeezed let out a knockout gas that could have you wiped out in 5.6 seconds. Nothing. Just trees and bark and leaves, nothing that she could use to get away.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "I think you heard me perfectly, Miss Granger."

Hermione shook her head, hysterical laughter bubbling up inside her and spilling forth. Her words rushed out in a jumble. "You… you can't be serious? _Me?_ You're your _ship?_ I d-d-don't… you _wouldn't!_ People – people will come looking for me, this isn't right – this is some sort of sick joke, you-you sick bloody arse!"

"It's not a choice," Draco snapped. "You either come with me now, or I kill you."

When she didn't answer, he grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her to her feet. Hermione's eyes began to water and she swallowed audibly, her arm squeezed tight from where Draco's gloved hand was gripping it. Her mind was reeling. This could not be happening. If she were less bright, she'd wonder if she was in the middle of a bad dream or something, and possibly try to pinch or slap herself out of it. But to Hermione, this was all too real. The man pulling her along the dirt path was definitely not a dream. The sunlight filtering through the trees wasn't a dream; she could feel the warmth on her skin. So here she was. Hermione wasn't stupid. She wasn't going to risk running again, not with Draco. She knew and remembered from Hogwarts of his athletic skill - although it was definitely hyped up and the spoken word made it a lot harder to believe, Hermione could see how strong and fit he was whenever he played Quidditch. He was also taller than her and would definitely be able to outrun her.

As Hermione stumbled over a root, Draco grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled, hard. "Try anything funny, Miss Granger, and I will not pause before I slam your head into the side of a tree." His voice was light and conversational, as if he was talking about the weather instead of smashing heads into trees.

If she tried to attack him, he _probably _wouldn't hesitate in killing her. He had gone missing for several years and just randomly showed up out of the blue on this island. She had no idea of his capabilities anymore. But of all of the islands… why_ this _one? She felt the unfamiliar bubble rising in her throat, a sure sign that she was going to cry. She tried to push it back down, but the situation was too overwhelming and a tear trickled down her cheek.

She thought about the terrible, unbelievable, incredible facts she had just learnt. Draco Malfoy was the captain of the Pirates, which made him the one who was killing all of the ex-death eaters. It was most likely to get back at Voldemort in the only way he could, and get revenge on his father. She still couldn't believe that it was Draco Malfoy who was behind all of the attacks and the killing and the looting… This information she had just learnt would help the ministry in more ways than she could imagine. What about Harry, and Ron? And Ginny? What would they say if they could see her now… dirty and held captive by none other than their arch enemy, Draco Malfoy. The longing for her friends grew substantially and Hermione felt the familiar stinging in her eyes and a surge of fury.

"Stop thinking about a way to escape, Granger." Draco commanded in that icy smooth voice.

"What, no mudblood?" Hermione spat, another tear trickling down her cheek, trying to disentangle her hair. "What happened to the old Malfoy, eh? The one I punched back in third year? The one who tried to _kill HARRY? _Who hated us dirty, low blooded muggle-borns?"

Draco paled slightly, and his lips pulled back in a fierce growl. "I'm no longer a Malfoy, so I have no longer have the need to act like one. Although I do admit my actions when I was a child were… slightly _rash,_ I have grown up, Miss Granger, and I suggest you stop dwelling on the past and look at the future. I have made some grievous mistakes and you have probably done the same, but I am slowly rectifying them. I have no preference over mudbloods like yourself or purebloods like _me – _in the real world, Miss Granger, you have to learn that people don't care of blood status anymore. It's all about survival."

Hermione grit her teeth. "So you're _rectifying_ your mistakes by _killing_ people without even giving them a moment to plea, a moment to do _anything?_ And your actions were just slightly rash? You were the most spoilt, annoying, insufferable, pompous _git_ I had ever known and probably _will_ ever know! This bloody war just ended,Malfoy, but you and your bloody antics are going to start a whole new one."

Draco's grip tightened and Hermione felt her hair almost pulled out of her roots. "_Do not speak of matters you know nothing about," _he hissed.

Hermione could feel the anger radiating off him in waves, but she couldn't stop now. She was in too deep. Hermione would anger Malfoy as badly as she could while she still had the chance. She honestly did not know how much longer she would live, at this rate.

"Killing people left and right, it's a whole new bloodbath we could have avoided! Sodding Pirates are everywhere in the news! The pirates have struck again! Four more killed with Pirate sign hovering above their houses! _Why does it have to be this way? _The war _ended! _There is no need to _fight_ anymore! All thehate and anger – you may be right when you say it's all about survival, but it does not refer to killing all other competition! You purebloods and your filthy honor – your _father is dead._" Hermione knew this last bit was pushing it to the limit, but she was so angry and furious at _everything,_ she couldn't help it. "NOTHING you do will make him proud and NOTHING you do will ever change the fact that _you are just as dirty as your death-eater father!"  
_

Draco had enough. He swung Hermione forward by her hair and struck her across the face, sending her sprawling onto the sand. Hermione hadn't even realized they were back at the beach were the boats were moored until the taste of sand mixed with blood in her mouth.

"I – you – you know _nothing_, you filthy _mudblood_.!" His voice was strained and tense and clenched, and louder than it had been in a few years.

Draco hadn't felt this angry in a long, long time. How could this tiny, frail witch wind him up this tight? He had just let out five years of anger he had trained himself to control. He had _hit_ a woman, something he promised he would never do. What was wrong with him? Having Granger on his ship would be the end of him.

Hermione's head spun from the blow and she found herself lying on the sand, her vision slightly off. Her jaw… shit, could Draco pack a punch. The grainy grains of sand were in her mouth and she straightened up, standing up wobbly, backing away from Draco in fear. He was flushed and standing at his full height, somewhere over six feet, and was emitting waves of anger. Fortunately, he wasn't looking at her, but somewhere in the horizon. Hermione didn't know if she could take his eyes right now.

She rubbed her jaw and it sent a fresh wave of pain to her head, and she collapsed to her knees, but stood up shakily once more. That was going to bruise. The blow had been on her cheek and cheekbone, so it hadn't busted her lip, but she had bitten her tongue and the inside of her cheek. Hermione spat. The blood stained the pristine white sand and stood out, bright and unforgiving. What had she gotten herself into?

Hermione bit her lip, a habit she had gotten in to as a child, but it sent a sharp sting of pain in her mind. Raising a hand to touch the cheek, she realized that she _had_ been a little cruel in what she said. It had been slightly uncalled for, but she had just been so angry, and her temper had gotten the best of her. A wave of guilt washed over her as she looked at Malfoy's fuming posture.

_No!_ She cried in her mind. _Malfoy is _kidnapping_ you, and you're honestly going to feel bad about what you said? He deserved every bit of it!  
_

Hermione steeled her resolve, but a small part of her still felt like she should've kept her stupid mouth shut.

She looked over and saw the five men walking towards her. One of them looked uneasy on his feet – he must've been the one she stunned, however all of them looked uneasy and put off by the giant bruise blossoming over her face. Eyes traveled from Hermione back to Draco back to Hermione.

"Captain? Are you okay?" one man asked. He was heavyset, with flaming red hair and bright blue eyes. "Who's the wench?"

Hermione winced at the title and narrowed her eyes. If she was truly going aboard the ship she'd have to introduce herself, wouldn't she? And she'd probably best try to befriend them, seeing as she'd be on the ship for an unknown amount of time.

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione held out her hand to shake the redhead's. "Your captain has so kindly abducted me so I believe we will be getting to know each other over the course of my stay on your ship."

His mouth dropped and he looked at Draco for advice – but Draco was still staring off in the distance, his pale hands clenched into fists and blue veins popping out of his skin.

"Uhhh, I'm Thomas," the redhead stammered, looking extremely uncomfortable with the bold female. "This is Patrick," he pointed to a young man with long dirty blonde dreadlocks like a hippie, "Welsey," a burly, round man with twinkling green eyes, "Jassim," a dark skinned man with a warm smile, "and finally Leslie."

Leslie was a tall, muscular man with a square jaw and a face that looked like it had suffered one too many punches. He leered, and Hermione knew instantly that he would be trouble.

"Cap'n, we've collected all the necessary items for the potion, now we just need someone to brew it. We'd best be off to the ship again, there's a port not far from Wallsdare where we can hire a potion master." Thomas said professionally.

Draco launched into action as Hermione watched, perplexed. Patrick, the hippie with the dreadlocks, slouched over to where Hermione was and grabbed her arm. His long, odd dreadlocks suited his narrow face. Although his appearance was disheveled and slightly dream-like, his blue eyes were sharp.

"I know you're gonna try and escape, lass. I suggest you don't try it. Draco here is very good at tracking, and he doesn't really wait before he kills someone. He prefers muggle weapons too. Guns, swords, anything. You'd best be careful around him." Patrick said in a low voice.

Hermione looked at him with grateful eyes. A man, a man who wanted to _help_ her! Oh the joy. "Thank you," she whispered, unable to say anything louder in fear she would start crying again.

Draco suddenly turned and pointed to her. She noticed his eyes were still smoldering with anger, and although 'smoldering' fit his eyes perfectly, they were more like sheets of ice instead of flame.

"We don't need a potions master. Miss _Granger," _He spat her name, "will brew our potion and save our fellow crewman."

Hermione's eyes widened and she felt her jaw clamp. "What if I say no?"

Draco laughed, but the sound was not pleasant at all. He was definitely still angry at what she had said, and she didn't half blame him.

"Then I shall strike a deal with you. Make the potion and I will set you free when it is done and if it's made correctly. If you don't agree, I will kill you. I suggest you take my offer."

Patrick leaned towards her ear. "Take his offer. This is the most generous he's been to a hostage before. The potion will not take long to brew and you can go home."

Hermione thought quickly, and slightly intimidated by Draco's powerful aura and his icy fury, she nodded. "I'll make your potion and then you _swear_ on your mother's bloody grave that you'll let me go?"

Draco's eyes narrowed and he smiled a thin lipped, predatory smile that sent shivers up Hermione's spine. "I do swear, Miss Granger. I wouldn't want your filth on my ship any longer than it is necessary."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but it seemed like he had cooled off some, and for that she was thankful. Draco was extremely scary when he was angry. He swept away, dignified and collected once more.

Thomas, the redhead, quickly followed Draco, along with Leslie. They flanked either side of Draco, talking to him in low voices, making their way towards the wooden boat next to The Marianne.

Patrick and another one still standing by her, Wesley, grabbed her forearms and began tugging her in the direction of the small wooden boat, albeit gently. Jassim, the dark skinned one, stood behind her, bringing up the rear. As they passed Ben's motionless body, Hermione suddenly realized that they couldn't just _leave_ him there, could they?

"Wait!" Hermione called to Draco. "Malfoy! What are you going to do with Ben?"

Draco turned around swiftly. He had cooled off some, but he was still obviously stiff. He thought for a moment before he pointed his wand at Ben's motionless body and hissed, "_**Somnus eternus spondeo!"  
**_

A silver string shot out of Draco's wand and wrapped around Ben's body, forming a cocoon, wrapping firmly around his entire body, from his feet to his head. Hermione couldn't believe it – she had read and heard about spells like these, they were dark magic that most people didn't know. They required more than one participant, though – what was Draco playing at? Eternal sleep?

Suddenly she felt a prick in her shoulder and turned to Patrick, who was holding a large knife, which now had a small bubble of Hermione's blood on it.

"Here cap'n!" Patrick called, and flung the knife as hard as he could at Draco's form. Draco, still holding his wand pointed at Ben's cocooned body, didn't even look at the knife before his hand snapped out at wrapped around the hilt. Hermione was impressed. That showed how in tune Draco was with his body while performing magic at the same time, which was actually a pretty hard feat to do. Still, she was more irked at Patrick for drawing blood.

Hermione's eyes widened as she realized a moment too late that her blood was part of the spell, her mouth forming a "No" as Draco levitated the knife over to the cocooned body and let it drop, where it plunged deep into the body. The moment the bloody knife touched the silver substance surrounding Ben, red spider-webbed across the silvery material, branching down until it was no longer pure white but a luminous blend of white and red streaks. It was horrifying and picturesque at the same time.

"**Intereo una!"  
**

Hermione felt her heart contract as she was magically bound to the body on the sand. She knew this curse. Now Draco would add his own blood, and he could control the fate of both of them. This was old, old dark magic. He added a drop of his own blood and sneered as it dropped to mix with the red and white streaked cocoon to make the whole thing pure black.

Hermione fell to her knees, feeling her heart pound against her ribcage. No… no… how could Malfoy be able to perform magic like this? Now… now she had no choice than to do what he said unless she wanted Ben to die. The knife that entered the cocoon was hovering somewhere over his heart. With Draco and Hermione's blood combined, and Draco's as the spell caster, if Hermione didn't do what Draco wanted, the knife would plunge straight into Ben's heart and he would die. The cocoon kept him motionless and in a zombie-like sleep, and he would only awake when the curse was lifted or when requirements were met. Draco could literally ask her to do _whatever,_ and she couldn't say no unless she wanted Ben to die.

It was a good spell if you wanted to see how far you could bend a person before they'd sacrifice their friend's life to save their own. And Hermione could just tell that Draco was going to have a lot… a lot of fun with this spell. It also hurt, just to add another extra bonus, whenever the knife lowered a bit, because it pierced Hermione's soul and she would feel the pain as well.

Hermione struggled to her feet, feeling as if she had just been winded. She screamed in outrage. "This is not fair, Draco Malfoy! You said I could leave after I made your potion! What the bloody hell was that?"

Draco turned to her, drawing himself up to his full height. "Granger, unless you want this Ben to die, I suggest you stop talking now. I will remain true to my promise; you will leave once you make the potion. This is… just in case I need to use force. Yet… this may come to be an interesting bonus when I am bored."

Leslie, the ugly one, sneered, "Test it! Make her take of her dress!"

Draco smirked at her, apparently his anger dissipating at the chance to embarrass her greatly. Prude Granger… this would probably be the naughtiest thing she'd _ever_ done. "Well, you heard what the man said. Do it."

Hermione's mouth dropped in outrage and disgust, while Leslie catcalled. Thomas sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. Patrick groaned and turned away. Jassim and Welsey just kept walking towards the wooden boat, where they began untying it and pushing it further in the water.

"Perhaps you should assent to his request some time this century," Draco sneered, holding up his hand and snapping his fingers.

The hilt of the knife slipped in a little lower and Hermione doubled over, gasping in pain. It hurt, all right, and she quickly slipped out of her sundress, feeling mortification set over her pretty features.

Draco looked her up and down, sneering. "Just what I expected from you, Granger – all your volume has traveled up into that bushy hair of yours."

Hermione just sneered back at him. The nerve. She had grown out of the petty insults they used to throw at each other, and it didn't affect her nearly as badly as it did before. It stung, but she could hide it well. This had been embarrassing, yes, but she wouldn't let Draco know that. Leslie laughed, but the rest of the men just looked around awkwardly. The tension between these two – it was overwhelming. They coughed and quickly got to work untying the wooden boat.

"You can put that back on now, Granger. I've seen enough. To be precise, I didn't see _much,_ but at least the curse works." Draco mocked.

Hermione shoved her arms through her sundress and stomped past Draco, doing something that _no one_ had ever done to Draco before. She hit the back of his head as she walked by him - her arm swinging out and her hand connecting with the back of his head with a sharp _crack.  
_

The Pirates all stopped and stared at Draco, who had stiffened visibly, shock on his face. Hermione didn't stop walking. She simply shouted back, "Oh, grow _up_ Malfoy."

The most amazing thing: Draco didn't respond. His hand came up to touch the back of his head where Hermione's hand had messed up his carefully plaited braid. He would've been angry, but her face when she stormed past him was caught in his mind. Hermione's face had been set in determination and anger, and she had the cutest scowl and that _fire _in her eyes… The nerve of that girl, how dare she? Was she over confident or just _stupid?_ Did she _know_ who he was?

Draco was tempted to throw a spell or even slap her back, but his gut clenched when he thought of what he had done to her back as they came out of the vegetation. The brutal hit was a mistake. What she said had stung, but he shouldn't have lost control of his anger. His head spun.

Draco snapped out of it only when they reached the boat. His hand went, once more, to the place where Hermione had firmly thumped him. He had always told his crew never to touch him. He didn't like physical contact, as he lacked it all throughout his childhood. He had been raised to despise muggle-borns and mudbloods and was told that if they touched you, you would be dirty and it would feel disgusting and you would have to bathe for days. Hermione's hand had not been dirty or disgusting. It hadn't even hurt. He remembered the weight as she pulled back and her fingers unintentionally drifted across his shoulder when she walked past him. It had been light and uncomfortable but not unpleasant.

What had Draco gotten himself into?

***


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: JK ROWLING :(

CHAPTER FOUR

Hermione was nervous about the head-slapping she had given Malfoy. When she walked past him she had done it out of instinct and anger – she always did that to Harry or Ron. She never expected Malfoy to take it so well, though. Not even a tiny ounce of pain. All through the boat ride to the big ship, Draco seemed lost in thought. _Maybe it's his mother,_ Hermione thought, _maybe she's done that to him before._ A feeling of sadness came over her. As much as she detested Malfoy, he had gone through a rough life. Parents, Voldemort, and now the whole disowning thing – Malfoy had been to hell and back in his twenty something years.

Hermione knew that it would be no good to pity him, though – she knew men hated pity over everything else and she didn't want to anger him (seeing as he could plunge a knife into her heart any time), but she _could_ try to be civil. As she was hauled aboard the large boat whose name she could not remember, Hermione decided that she would be civil to Draco Malfoy until she got the potion finished and left. There was no harm in trying.

Thomas, or maybe Wesley grabbed Hermione's arm, and shouted a spell. A moment later, Hermione left a tug behind her navel, not unlike to the feeling of a portkey yet still different, and found herself on the ship. The small brown boat had disappeared. The ship was large and there was a line of people waiting for their return. It was the crew.

"Cap'n!" The crew saluted.

Hermione looked at the faces. There were not many of them, not many at all, and they all seemed to be around the same age as Draco and herself, if not older. How exactly _did_ Draco get to be captain? The faces were all decent looking, none looking that disastrous besides Leslie.

One short one came up to Draco. He had glasses on a windswept brown hair. "Cap'n, we have the cauldron and the equipment necessary to brew the potion. We're headed towards Ibenhale Port now, sir, they have a good range of potion experts there."

Draco shook his head. "That will be unnecessary, set the ship to sail to Parker Island immediately. We have our potion brewer. Welcome Hermione Granger to the Mare Maris Muliema please, crew."

Hermione nervously stepped into their view. "Hi, I'm Hermione Granger,' she said unnecessarily.

Draco rolled his eyes.

A young boy with a lively face spoke up. "Hermione Granger? _The_ Hermione Granger? Who fought alongside Harry Potter and Ron Wesley?"

"Weasley, Ron Weasley, and yes, that is me," Hermione gave a tired smile.

Another one with blonde locks asked Draco incredibly, "Where did you _find_ her? Isn't she ministry guarded or something?"

Draco opened her mouth to speak but Hermione cut him off. "Actually, he kidnapped me and cursed me with a dark magic spell that is highly dangerous."

Draco snapped his mouth shut, closed his eyes as if to quell his anger, then opened them again and barked, "What are all you lazy pieces of filth doing? I thought I wanted this ship to be headed toward Parker Island?"

They quickly scrambled off, taking out wands and casting spells. The ship quickly began gaining pace, gliding through the water as if it was flying. The sails had unfurled and the ship looked magnificent. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she looked back and saw Draco manning the wheel, tapping it experimentally with his wand. He looked so powerful, so majestic, and so charismatic, standing there. His robe whipped around him as the wind began to gust around the ship, lifting his hair high into the air. He looked like an angel.

"Sneak all the looks you want, Miss Granger," a sour voice said from beside her. "He doesn't fall for women."

Hermione, although startled by the appearance of the man, was even more startled by his choice of words. "Oh!" She blushed beet red. "You mean… you mean Malfoy's _gay? _Not that I have anything against gays! Of course! Just that – I – Malfoy –"

"NO!" the man interrupted, reddening as well. "You mistook my words. He's not gay! He just doesn't stay with women for very long. He takes them aboard his ship, beds them for a week or so, and then drops them off at the next town. So you're out of luck if you've fallen for his stunning looks. Like all the others."

Hermione felt the red rising into her cheeks. "No, no, dear god no! I don't like Malfoy at _all,_ in fact, I loathe him. However I have decided that for the remainder of my stay upon this ship, I will be civil towards him."

The man's face lightened up considerably. "My name's Frank. You can call me Frank or Frankie, it's up to you. I'm the health person upon this ship, I issue out medicine and heal small cuts and wounds and bruises. However, recently one of the crew members was gouged in the stomach with the barb taken directly from one of the suckers of a kraken. I'm not skilled in this area of expertise, and I can't identify the poison… however we have found a potion that will help stop the flow of poison through his veins, but it's extremely difficult and I don't think I can do it alone. Please help."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, then gestured to her cheek. "This may be a little… odd, but could you heal my cheek please? I would do it myself but I don't have a mirror and healing spells aren't my specialty."

Frank laughed. "Of course!"

He pulled out his wand and tapped Hermione's bruised cheek with it, and she felt warmth spread across her face. "Now, please follow me. I'd like to show you our injured crewmember."

Hermione nodded, following Frank down through the hatch into the lower quarters of the ship. It was already a large ship from the outside, a beauty with ebony furnishes and penderson bark (a magical tree which was a gorgeous dark, rich brown and floated and sailed perfectly in water) but the inside was magically enchanted to be even bigger. It was gorgeous, the size of a quidditch field inside, with large black doors on either side. The hatch opened up to a winding marble staircase, and the floor was marble squares rimmed with gold. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, but there was nothing inside the giant room, besides the walls, which were adorned with large, flat mirrors.

"It's for balls we hold," Frank explained as he led her down a winding hallway that was the size of her house. "Occasionally at each port, we invite the town to come attend the ball we host on our ship. It gives the women a chance to dress up and feel beautiful – they hardly ever get the chance living in those fishing towns."

Hermione looked at him, touched. "That's so sweet and thoughtful! There's no way that Malfoy could agree to that, though."

"Actually," Frank said, leading her through one final doorway, where groans and moans could be heard from inside. "Mr. Malfoy was the one who designed this ballroom and came up with the idea."

Hermione paused at the door handle, looking at him. This was a whole new side to Malfoy. That was… interesting. She had other matters to worry about, though – this man's sickness. She opened the door and stepped inside, and was greeted by a fresh wave of hot air. The whole room was burning up. She fumbled for a light switch, but there was none, and the room was pitch black.

"Lumos," Frank and Hermione both said, and Hermione almost recoiled in horror.

On the bed was the worse condition of poisoning she had ever seen in her entire life. The man lying on the bed looked deathly. His skin colour was completely off; it was a yellowy green, splotchy and in some places faded into a stark white that was nearly see-through. Hermione immediately switched into nurse mode, conjuring up a mouth mask and tying up her long tresses into a ponytail. She checked the poor man's eyelids, throat glands, hands, fingernails, and everything that was necessary. He had a large puncture wound in his side, below his rib, the size of the hole you make when squeezing your forefinger and thumb together. It was jagged along the edges and bleeding, and surrounded by a disgusting coat of watery purple pus. She could see into it, straight inside, bloody and disgusting. She gagged before remembering she had to be professional.

"What potion do you suggest, Frank?" Hermione asked quietly, afraid to disturb the sick man.

"It doesn't have a name," Frank said, pulling Hermione out of the room and closing the door behind him. "We attacked a small village a fortnight ago and we found an old crone living in a small wooden house. They claimed she was senile, but she used to be a famous healer and people came to her from far and wide. We raided her house and found an entire chest-full of spells, potions, and recipes. They're in Mr. Malfoy's room at the moment; he doesn't want anyone touching them."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Are you sure these potions can be trusted?"

"Well, there isn't much else we _can_ try anymore. Paul's very close to dying." Frank said sadly, his eyes and face looking drawn and tired from late nights spent reading through potionbooks and spellbooks.

Hermione set her jaw. Paul was a human being, just like her. It did not matter who his captain was or what his profession was. It didn't matter his age, or his background. He was a man and he dying, and Hermione would do everything in her power to save the young man.

"Show me to Malfoy's quarters." She said determinedly.

A moment later, there was a pop and Jasism, the dark skinned fellow, was standing next to Hermione and Frank. He was tall and broad, with warm brown eyes and weathered face although he did not seem that old. He was muscular and firm.

"Jassim, take Hermione to Draco's quarters. She'll be working on the potion there." Jassim nodded and Frank turned to Hermione, saying, "The potion I want to use should be the first parchment you see when you open the chest."

Hermione nodded, Jassim grasped her elbow firmly, and with a pop they appeared in front of a large, mahogany door. The door handles were silver and intricately deisgned, with snakes winding around the base of them. The door seemed to have a tint of green in it as well. Typical Slytherin.

Jassim's deep voice bounced in the hallway. "This is Mister Malfoy's quarters, where the spellchest is kept. Make sure you wash your hands before you touch any of the parchments because they are quite old, and conjure some gloves if you think you're clumsy. Mister Malfoy will _not_ be happy if you ruin a spell."

The door swung open and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Did she say room? It was more of a penthouse. The colours of the room were, oddly enough, a blend of different colors, black, silver, red wood, green and gray, but it contrasted well. Against the wall of the room was a large, high canopy bed with a beautiful cover. The floor was marble and various paintings adorned the walls. Hermione ducked into a small door she saw in the corner of his room, and found herself in the bathroom. The bathroom was huge, with a tub and a separate shower. It was gorgeous. She washed her hands thoroughly and conjoured a pair of old fashioned white gloves.

She went back outside, into the room, and settled down in a plush armchair next to a roaring fire. "_Accio spellchest!" _she called, and a large, brown treasure-chest type of chest was pulled towards her, where it stopped and flipped open.

Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth dropped. The chest was bigger than she thought it would be and it was filled to the brim, overflowing with parchment and books and quills and random scraps of odd things there and there. It was _wonderful,_ like a dream. Hermione had never seen this many spells and potions before! How interesting they all would be… She quickly spotted the one Frank had been talking about; it was resting on the very top of the rest and was old, very old indeed. Hermione picked it up and read it, her brow furrowing and biting her lip.

It was a very potent, very powerful, and very dangerous potion to make. If brewed correctly, it would remove all poisoned blood from a body. This was very dangerous because although it removed all the poison, the blood loss could very well kill the poisoned victim. It was painful and agonizing, and it took almost four months to brew. Hermione looked over the ingredients. Dragons blood, _semion tongue_, crushed bellbeetle wings, boomslang skin, powdered agoarn horn… this list of banned items went on and on. How the crew managed to find all of these things was amazing, if they had actually done it. Hermione didn't know, as she hadn't seen the cauldron or the ingredients.

"I can do this," Hermione murmured to herself. It would take a lot of patience, hard work, determination and perseverance, but those were all traits Hermione saw in herself. "I can do this."

****

Draco stormed into his room two hours later, pulling open the silver handled doors and stomping inside. Frank hadn't _shut the fuck up_ about bloody Hermione Granger and how 'amazing' and 'gentle' and 'kind' and 'generous' the girl was, and it was driving him up the wall. It was selfish, but he didn't want the little muggle-born in the way of him and the crew. Draco groaned, throwing himself on his bed and shutting his eyes.

He _had_ to keep Granger; she had been the best at potions (he grudgingly admit) during their schooling days, and she worked in the ministry at the department of magical substances. If anyone could heal Paul, it would be her. As much as it pierced his ego and hurt to say, Granger was the best person for the job. She was such a know-it-all and such a nerd that she should be able to do it.

His mind drifted back to the little sundress incident. He didn't know what had come over him to agree to Leslie's request… maybe it was the fact that inside, he _had_ wanted to see what Hermione looked like under - _ PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER,_ he shouted in his mind. _Make yourself seem like such a pussy._

People had talked back to him before – not many, of course, because most ended up dead, but none of them had ever hit home like Granger had. He _knew_ that whatever he did, he wouldn't rid himself from the taint and smell of death eater his father had imprinted in his mind. As much as he hated his father's choice and his actions, he had still always wanted Lucius to be proud of him. Hermione had nailed center when guessing why he was killing all the ex-death eaters – he wanted to prove to the world, to _himself,_ that he wasn't part of their group, no matter what they said, and his father would be avenged. His father had died because Voldemort had lured him in. If he couldn't kill Voldemort, the second best option was to kill all his followers.

Hearing a little murmer in the side of his room, he looked over, and found the topic of his thoughts sitting in his favourite plush leather chair, her head nodding on her chest and a neat pile of parchment spells on the floor next to her and another three on her lap She had been going through them and had probably fallen asleep.

Draco's eyes fell on her peaceful face. Why couldn't he look away? Hermione looked peaceful and content, with a small smile gracing her features, her curls falling haphazardly all over the place, creating an attractive effect. The light of the fire danced on her face, making her look young, innocent, and gorgeous.

Draco tried to push the thought out of his mind. This was mudblood Granger he was thinking about, he tried to tell himself. As he exited his quarters a few moments later, Hermione's fire-lit face was still imprinted in his mind.

_Weak. So weak,_ he repeated in his head.

_***_

Hermione woke up - a blanket around her shoulders and her head lying against the couch arm, a much more comfortable feeling that how she should've felt if she had fallen sleep in the way she remembered. Also, there hadn't been any blanket… It must've been Jassim or Frank, checking up on her. A pile of parchments she had been going through were by her feet, and the extremely interesting ones were in her lap.

These parchments could be god-knows how many years old, but Hermione was captivated by them. Dark magic or no dark magic, these were forgotten spells that were extremely helpful in battle and other areas.

Her thoughts strayed back to her job at the ministry. They would _kill_ to have spells like these in their grasp, but god knows what they'd use them for. Although Hermione worked for the Ministry, she didn't exactly like them nearly as much as she should – she had grown wary of them ever since they began pulling stints from Sirius Black to the foul Umbridge. However, she enjoyed her potions job, and didn't want to leave it.

She distractedly wondered if anybody was worried about her. Would Maylline notice her missing? Since Ben didn't return, she probably thought they had eloped or something. Hermione felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, recalling the letter she had sent Harry – it had asked him not to disturb her, as she wanted to be away from everyone for a little bit… Oh, god. Nobody was going to find her. They didn't even know she was _missing._

_It's okay, Hermione. Brew the potion you can leave in a couple months._

She sighed, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was _actually _going to be living on this ship for the next few months. With Draco Malfoy. Her life had just taken a very, very unexpected plunge and Hermione had been lost in the process.

***

xLC


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own... nothing :(

CHAPTER FIVE

A few hours had passed as Hermione continued reading over spells when a knock came on Draco's door. Hermione unfolded herself from her position, slipping off the blanket and going to see who and what the person knocking wanted. It was Kyle, the sandy haired youth who had asked where Draco had found Hermione from before.

"Dinner's ready, miss!" he said, grinning. "Drakey asked me to collect you."

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Drakey..?"

Kyle didn't notice her skeptical expression. "Oh yeah, I'm Draco's favourite person in the entire world! He loves that nickname. So let's go!"

Hermione felt her lips quirking up at the young boy's eagerness. He was so full of life, and so young. He had to have _just_ ended school to look that youthful. Kyle grabbed her hand and with a _pop_ they apparated to the dining room, a dimly lit, beautiful, long room. The table was a dark wood and extremely long, like the kind you would see in the movies, with places set only at the heads of the table. Hermione stared at it awkwardly.

"Where are you eating?" She asked Kyle, pulling a strand of hair around her finger nervously.

"The crew? Oh, we always eat in the kitchens. Draco eats up here, by himself or with a lady guest. Sometimes Thomas comes up, because Thomas is his first man." Kyle explained easily, not even sounding bothered that this table was large enough to seat about fifty people and only one used it.

Hermione scrunched up her nose. This was almost like the house elves back at Hogwarts- they were forced to cook and clean and fix up the school while the students just ate their fill.

"Can I eat in the kitchens please?" Hermione asked quietly, pleading. She had no intention of eating up _there,_ with Draco, by themselves. How… how incredibly awkward. It would just be the sound of cutlery clanking against dishes.

Kyle laughed, a hearty sound. "Are you kidding? Drakey knew you'd ask that so he told me that you're not allowed, sorry. Appetizers should be coming in… twenty three seconds! Nice to talk to you Hermy – you're different than the other girls Dakey brings back!"

With that, Kyle apparated, leaving a confused and nervous Hermione in his wake. Kyle enjoyed nicknames, she deducted. She pulled out a heavy chair from the large, intimidating table and gulped. This dinner was going to be something she had never experienced before. She could feel Draco's cold ice eyes boring through her while he ate. What if she spilled something on herself? What if she accidently had something on her face? What if… her face flushed with embarrassment… what if she _missed her mouth with her fork?_

It took Hermione a moment to wonder why she was feeling so self-conscious. She didn't usually care whether she had something on her face or the way she was eating. This was different and odd, and she didn't like how concerned over her behavior she was becoming. _Just act natural,_ she told herself.

She licked her lips and drummed her fingernails on the fancy table, the glossy surface smooth and cold under her fingertips. She was all alone in this large dining room. Where was Malfoy?

As if on cue, Malfoy appeared with a crack in his seat. Great apparation precision; it was hard to do things like that. Hermione swallowed nervously as her fingers stopped the incessant drumming they had been doing a moment before. Malfoy just stared at her for a few moments, his eyes unreadable but still slightly cold. After a moment, he inclined his head.

"I hope you found the parchment?" he asked. His voice was casual but Hermione could hear the undercurrent apprehensiveness in it. He was probably trying to keep his anger in check.

"Oh yes," Hermione quickly blurted, afraid to stretch any silence too long. "The spell seems to be one that would work very well! We might have to infuse a little blood in him before he drinks the potion, though, because the spell makes him lose quite a bit of blood."

Draco nodded. "That seems like an… decent idea."

There was a tense silence, until Hermione asked something that had been on her mind. "Where will I be brewing the potion and where am I sleeping?"

"You will be brewing the potion in my quarters, and you will be sleeping in the guest room down the left hall from it. Do you have any other questions?"

Hermione shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ear. Draco sneered, and stared. Hermione swallowed and tried to look everywhere _but_ at his eyes. They were fascinating but almost too brutal to look at, something like looking into the sun. Draco's sneer grew more pronounced as he noted Hermione's awkwardness, and Hermione scowled.

"I have a proposition," she told him, her hands clenching into fists.

Draco raised his fine eyebrows, his eyes glittering. "Do you now, Miss Granger? Pray tell, what is it?"

"I want us to… to be civil with each other while I am on your ship. If I am to be working aside you to help make this potion, then I think we should be on polite terms, so I would like to set some ground rules."

Draco's eyebrows shot even higher. The little woman was trying to set ground rules on _his_ ship? The nerve! But as this was amusing him greatly, he inclined his head to let her continue.

"First, no insults or name calling, for the both of us. We are both adults. Secondly, you _will_ help me brew this potion. Thirdly, you shall not harm me physically or mentally, and treat me like a guest upon your boat." Hermione's voice grew stronger and firmer with each word that passed through her lips. "Fourthly, you and your crew will not assault me in any way."

Draco's laugh startled her. It was a full-blown laugh; his head was thrown back, his plait thrown over his shoulder, his eyes twinkling. "You – you little witch!" he laughed. "Telling me _ground rules _on _my_ ship?! You're lucky I've spared your life! You'd should be thankful and ask for _my_ rules!"

"Excuse _me?" _Hermione snapped, heat rising up her neck.

Draco's laugh rang out, the only answer she got.

Hermione stood up angrily, pushing the chair back. "Don't laugh at me, Malfoy! I am completely serious here. _Break any of those rules, and I will personally see to it that your balls are removed painfully, one by one, and hung on my personal display_."

A crashing sound came from the door, and Draco and Hermione both turned to look. Thomas was standing at the door, at his feet a silver tray that had two soup bowls upon it. He must have heard Hermione's outburst, and had been so shocked that he dropped the tray. Who talked back to the captain? Had it been anybody else, Draco would have cursed them into oblivion, or pulled out his pistol and shot them quickly. It was unnatural to see him just staring at her fuming form, with an odd expression in his eyes – they were the most alive he had seen in years, dancing with an unknown emotion.

Hermione's face filled with embarrassment at being caught saying such an impolite thing, but she held her ground and lifted her chin in an act of defiance.

Thomas shook his head, cleared his throat and swiped out his wand, fixing the plates in their original form and clearing the soup on the floor. He went back downstairs for more, looking sheepish and uneasy.

Draco, on the other hand, looked at Hermione with amusement shining in his beautiful eyes. "You have nerve, Granger, but sometimes that can get you killed."

Hermione resisted the urge to slap some sense into him and rolled her eyes instead. "Malfoy, I'm trying to make an agreement with you. I can finish the potion faster if we cooperate, and if I finish the potion faster, your crewmember has a higher chance of living, and I will leave sooner."

Draco tilted her head, weighing her statement in his mind. He had nothing to lose being nice to her, and what she said was true. It wouldn't kill him to treat her better than he did back at Hogwarts; he hadn't ill-treated a woman in quite a long time since. He could always use the curse he had placed on Ben and her, but it was very powerful and took a lot of strength, something he had to save. He'd give this politeness a try. Nothing would happen to him. Nothing _could_ happen to him.

Boy, was he wrong.

***

The soup came once more, and it looked watery and disgusting. Hermione poked it with the silver spoon laid in front of her, looking at it hesitantly.

Draco's lips pulled up slightly at Hermione's faintly repelled face. "Paul was our cook," he explained as he dipped his spoon into the soup gingerly. "Roric has taken over for now, but he's not very good."

Hermione was startled by his conversational tone. _Wow, he took the 'let's be civil' thing really well,_ she thought. Well, if he was in the mood to talk, then she definitely wasn't going to let him clam up again.

"Back in Europe, I started this really good cookbook and I memorized most of the recipes. They're lovely and I wouldn't mind trying to test them out," she put in slowly.

Draco shrugged his shoulders, once again dismissive. "Do what you wish, just make sure you have the time to create the potion."

Hermione nodded eagerly, beginning to explain the difference between a Decadent Butterscotch Nut Coffee Cake and a Butterscotch Chocolate Chiffon Cake. Draco rolled his eyes, but continued to listen anyways. It was a nice change to have a voice ringing around this old room, even if it was from the world's most insufferable know-it-all.

***

Hermione started the potion that very night, lighting the fire underneath the big black cauldron that was in the corner of Draco's room. It was awkward being in his room, but Hermione knew that he wanted to oversee her progress, and she decided that it wasn't a bad idea. She was pleasantly surprised when Draco agreed to be civil with her – now she could get this potion finished and get the hell off the boat.

She felt Draco watching her through the fumes the potion was giving off. It was weird, having him watch over everything she was doing. She hoped it wouldn't hurt her concentration.

The potion bubbled and hissed and frankly, it looked absolutely disgusting. The worst part was that it was blood-based, which meant the liquid sloshing around the cauldron was sickly red and thick and goopy. Hermione had never brewed a potion that reacted this quickly to other ingredients – who knew that dragon blood and boomslang skin created such an interesting effect? Hermione was scribbling notes down in a small notebook as well, just in case she needed to refer back to them.

She counted how many clockwise stirs she had to do under her breath, followed by a counterclockwise stir. This was very confusing. After adding the bellbeetle shell, Hermione paused to take a deep breath, and looked up.

He was staring at her again, his icy eyes not giving any emotion away. Maybe he was scrutinizing her or praising her (unlikely) – Hermione couldn't deduct anything. She flushed slightly catching him staring at her and looked back down at the potion, which was creating a nasty smell. Fortunately, Draco had cast some smelling charm on the room so it was hardly detectable, but still.

She added a few sprigs of a herb and set the potion under a round window Draco had in his room, where the moonlight spilt across the potion beautifully. It had to cure in the moonlight every night, and the ingredients could only be added after the sun set. It was confusing and hard to follow, but basically she couldn't work on it during the day.

"I'm done for tonight," Hermione announced, standing up from her cramped position. She had been working on the potion for over two hours.

"Do you want an award?" Draco scoffed. "Go to sleep, you'll be helping the crew tomorrow."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Draco. "Let me remind you, Draco, that I _am_ working on this potion. I don't think you should be threatening me."

Draco's fine eyebrows rose and his long hair glinted in the firelight. "That was not an threat, Miss Granger, you _will_ be working with the crew tomorrow. You don't want to be bored on this ship, so you will start by cooking breakfast, then cleaning the rooms, and you will prepare lunch. Then you will scrub the deck and wash the necessary sheets and items in each room, along with clothing."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "You – I – you expect me to be a … a _maid _on your ship? I am a _ministry worker! _I'm not going to-"

Draco breathed in a deep breath as if preparing himself, before he snapped his fingers and a lacing pain shot through Hermione. She fell to her knees. "Do you understand, Miss Granger?" Draco snapped.

Hermione raised her head weakly, clutching her heart. "Yes," she whispered.

For the billionth time, Hermione wondered just what she had gotten herself into.

***

Hermione awoke to an incessant knocking on the guest room's door. She knew exactly where she was, but she couldn't stop the soft whoosh of breath escape her lips as she recalled everything that had happened.

The ship was large, but it didn't completely quell the rocking motion of the ocean. It was actually quite comfortable – Hermione had never been a victim of seasickness, it was more of a fear of heights for her – and she quickly got used to it.

She threw off her covers slowly and staggered to her feet. Thanks to Draco's unwillingness to help her find her room, she had walked around the large hallways of the ship for a good thirty minutes before finding a room labeled "guest". It was a creamy white colour, with a picture of a sailing boat on the wall, and a large, four-poster bed that was actually quite comfortable. There was an attached bathroom with shampoo, soap, and all necessary accoutrements that she needed.

In a closet against a wall, Hermione found shirts and shorts – they were kind of big and baggy, but Hermione didn't complain. It would be better this way anyways; she didn't want any of the pirates staring at her _attributes_ by wearing skin tight clothes. She conjured underwear and bras because the closet didn't have any, and her pajamas consisted of a baggy black t-shirt and khaki colored shorts that were so big they fell down past her knees. Fortunately she found a belt, and that was what she was using to hold the giant folds up.

Hermione had never been very good at altering clothes with magic, and a pile of ruined clothes lay in the corner of the room.

The knocking increased in volume, and a bright, cheery voice called through the door.

"HERMY!" It was definitely Kyle. "Drakey asked me to wake you up! It's time to cook brekkers, the other men are already up!"

Hermione groaned, rubbing her temple and hiking up the big shorts. She opened the door and took in Kyle's smart appearance; he was wearing the drawstringed white shirt, black slacks and black boots, and a big belt. Typical "piratey" clothing.

"Lead the way to the kitchens, Kyle," Hermione groaned, fighting down a yawn. The sun hadn't even risen yet.

The kitchens were large but simple and easy to use. Kyle explained that the kitchen was called the "galley", but Hermione preferred "kitchen" and continued to call it that. A scraggly looking man met her at the door, introducing himself as Roric.

"I'm terrible at cooking," Roric admitted, "ever since Paul got that barb through his side the crew have had some of the worst meals ever…"

Hermione let out a nervous laugh.

Roric ignored her nerves and showed her around the large "galley", pointing out different things and what they were used for. "Draco told me to get you to prepare breakfast, and if it's any good we'll have you try for lunch. If both meals work out well then you can probably come and help me every day, and Draco will lay you off the crew duty."

Hermione scowled. "Why does he even make me do that? Does he make _every _one of his female guests clean the deck and the rooms and wash the sheets?"

"No… not _really_," Roric licked his lips and swallowed. "You see, Miss Granger, it's more that the other women on the ship are… well, they're only good for… they're very _voluptuous…_ quite worn down by morning, if you get my drift."

"Only good for fucking!" Kyle hollered from the galley door.

Hermione's cheeks tinted red. "I see," she muttered. "I'm the first and only woman who's not being used as a playtoy."

Rorsac had the civility to look sheepish. "You're very smart though! And don't think you're not attractive – it's just that Draco goes for blondes… something about a _decent looking bloodline_,"

Hermione's lips quirked slightly. That was a typical Draco move.

However, she still felt a little tinge of disappointment, which she couldn't place. It wasn't like she was _jealous_ of those big-boobed blondes who were treated like royalty on the ship and whom Draco actually liked… was she? She wasn't a whore and she _didn't_ want to be used for just one week for just one purpose – she wanted to help Paul and save his life. Still, a nagging thought in the back of her head kept questioning if she would have been treated differently if her hair were blonde, if she were taller, and if her boobs were bigger.

***

Hope you liked it :D

Reviews are lovely and thank you for submitting them!

I'll answer any questions that you ask and try to reply to the reviews:

Irisheart8 – thank you so much for your praise, and I loved your suggestion. However, I know I've spent most (if not all) of the chapters just setting the stage, but I still feel like the romance needs to build up - because they don't know each other very much _yet_… but don't worry, it's definitely coming.

Keke Koorime: Thank thank thank you

.Poisoned Scarlet.: I know it's short and this one's short as well I apologize and I'll try to make them longer. It's just that it's hard to find a good place to stop, if you know what I mean! But thank you as well!

Lya Darkfury: thank you thank you :D it's what I've been trying to do; I can't just make them fall in love straight away.

Zabinilover: I love it when people quote their favourite parts ;) thank youu.

IGOTEAMEDWARD: ahahhaha that review made me laugh, mercii.

Jade2009: So true… well, you'll see how long it takes for our Draco to crack.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: JK ROWLING

Chapter SIX 

Hermione prepared eggs benedicts, which was surprisingly good. She dished them out on dirty, old, cracked plates and set them at a large table in the corner of the kitchen. The men didn't all eat together; they came in groups of two or three to eat then leave. She smiled as the pirates raised their eyebrows at each other after tasting the eggs, nodding in speculation. Congratulations passed her in the kitchen as they went to dump their plates in the sink which was charmed to wash plates automatically, and Hermione felt a surge of pleasure that she was already doing something right.

Draco didn't come down to the kitchens to eat, in fact, he didn't have breakfast at all. As Hermione walked through the winding hallway back to her room, she wondered why she was so upset that he hadn't tasted her eggs. Maybe she wanted to prove to him that she was more useful than the usual women he brought back onto the ship. Maybe… but since when did she _care? _

She flopped down on her bed, thoughts jumbling around her mind. Hermione found herself falling back asleep, but she didn't bother to stop the wave from overcoming her. She could start on the "chores" later… a few more hours wouldn't hurt, would they? The sun hadn't even risen yet, and Hermione _had_ been up rather late last night…

_Hermione woke up to another knock on her door, but when she looked out porthole in her room, the sky was dark. Evening already? She slept through the entire day? Impossible… she quickly got off the bed and found herself wearing a low-cut, short red cocktail dress that ended mid-thigh. It was gorgeous and made of a soft, silky material that flowed over her hips and made her average sized boobs look really, really big. _

_She wondered why she was dressed in such a provocative dress and stepped to the mirror in her room, her breath catching in her throat. Her boobs looking bigger hadn't just been because of the dress – they _were_ bigger! They were huge, but it didn't look awkward on her petite frame, because she was about five inches taller, and her hair was a platinum blonde, silky and straight. She looked familiar, but she couldn't identify the exact face… her nose was no longer button shaped, but straight and long and proud, and her lips were plump and coated in sexy red lipstick. _

_  
What…? _

_The door swung open and Draco was leaning against the frame, looking seductive and dashing in a black tuxedo that hugged his lean, broad shoulders and narrow waist well. His hair was loose and framed his face deliciously, giving his piercing gray eyes more depth and making his angular, aristocratic features look all the better. _

"_Good evening, Mary," Draco's deep voice rumbled across the room._

_Mary? Why was that name so familiar? Hermione pondered for a moment, but was surprised when she felt her lips moving of their own accord and a voice speaking that was obviously hers. _

"_Evening, Draco," Hermione – or Mary, as Draco addressed her as – had a lovely voice; it was sultry and sexy._

_Draco took a step into the room, turning around and locking the door behind him, his movements graceful, slow, and concupiscent. _

"_Malfoy! What are you doing?" Hermione gained control of her body and shot the words out of her mouth quickly._

_Draco turned and smirked. "Using last names now, Evans?" _

_He began walking towards Hermione, slow, deliberate steps. Hermione backed up – it was like a dance. One step forward, one backwards. Soon, though, all too soon, Hemrione was pressed up against the mirror in her bedroom, and Draco was getting closer with each step. _

_Hermione's heart and her breath sped up. Draco's eyes were darkening rapidly as he reached her quivering form, pressing a hand to the mirror next to Hermione's head, trapping her. _

"_What are you doing?!" Hermione squeaked, her voice no longer sultry and sexy._

"_Exactly what I brought you here for." _

_With that, Draco tilted his head closer and closer to Hermione's face. He swept up her wrists with his free hand and pinned them above her head. He leant in, nuzzling her neck and inhaling. Something warm pressed against the side of her neck and she realized that he was licking her neck, but instead of being disgusted, Hermione felt herself being turned on greater than she should've been._

_  
A small moan escaped her lips and she tilted her head as Draco trailed kisses up her neck. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp but she felt that she couldn't control her body and what he was doing felt so good… _

_He placed light kisses all the way up her chin until he reached her mouth, and he pressed his firm lips against hers. As soon as their lips connected, a spark ignited in Hermione/Mary, and she found her lips moving of their own accord, kissing him back, hungrily. Draco let her hands fall and snuck his now free hand behind her and on her butt, resulting in a small moan from Hermione which allowed Draco to sweep his tongue into her mouth. _

_Draco hiked her leg over his hip and stepped even closer to Hermione, pressing their bodies together and grinding his hips against hers, causing her to moan again in pleasure. His hand gripped her other thigh and tugged it up, until she was straddling him, legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands tangled in his blond hair and her breaths were coming out in pants. Their bodies felt so good together, it was perfect…_

_Something brown was in her way though, and she felt herself cramping, and suddenly the red dress was far too big around her and her legs were growing shorter. The brown was her hair, it was big and brown once more, and Hermione was thrown away from Draco as he realized who she was and had gotten burnt. _

"_MUDBLOOD?!" he cried, looking disgusted._

_Hermione suddenly found herself in a French maid's outfit with a broom in one hand and tears pouring down her cheeks. "Draco, no! Please, I lo-"_

_  
"Get back to cleaning!" Draco snapped. "It's all you're good for anyways! Nobody likes a filthy mudblood!" _

_He exited the room quickly, looking disgusted, and Hermione crumpled to her knees, letting out a wail…_

Hermione awoke with a start and a gasp. She pressed her hand to her eyes and found that she was actually crying, and recalled the dream she had just had. It had been vivid and she remembered it clearly, every touch and every feel… and the hurt when Draco had spoken his last words.

Oh. My. God. Most awkward dream ever.

Hermione looked at her hands. They were, once again, pale and thin, and her hair was still brown, not the sharp platinum blonde it had been. Her nose was still button shaped and her legs weren't a mile long. She felt an odd feeling but quickly quashed it. So what if she wasn't as pretty as a long legged, blonde haired model? So what if she was on the ship not as Draco's mistress but to actually do work? She wasn't as shallow as that, was she?

The door slammed open and someone was standing in the doorframe, with his wand pointed in the room.

Hermione let out a shriek at the sudden burst and tugged the covers over her chest. "Bloody hell!" she shrieked.

The figure came into focus, sweeping into the room. "Who's in here?"

It was Draco, tall and commanding and utterly in control. His eyes were narrowed and his wand was drawn. He repeated his question. "Why did you scream? Is someone here?"

Hermione's shock faded instantly and she blushed a fierce red. She _screamed?_ Because of that bloody dream? It hadn't even been a _scary_ dream. The blush crept further up her face when she realized that the dream had _been_ about who was currently standing in her room, and _he_ had been the reason of her screaming.

"B-bad dream," Hermione muttered, averting her eyes.

Draco was about to fling open the closet when he heard what she said – instead, he turned around disbelievingly, clenching his fists.

"You screamed like a bloody banshee because of a bad dream? Granger," Draco's eyes were very, very angry. "I nearly _blasted_ this door down to get inside because I thought someone was attacking you."

Hermione didn't think her face could be redder if it was painted. "I'm sorry," she squeaked. "I didn't know that I screamed!"

Draco's lip curled in anger. "What was so bad about this dream anyways?"

His icy gray eyes bore into hers and Hermione's widened. Was he good at occulemency? Probably – she quickly averted her eyes. If he found out what the dream had been about – the kissing and touching and _oh my god it would be so embarrassing._

"N-n-nothing!" Hermione said shrilly, desperately blurting the first thing that came to mind: "Nothing at all! Just thought that… m-my meatloaf had, had o-overcooked and burnt! You know h-how ovens can be these days right?! No self t-timers or anything like that you have to use your time counting skills and _oh_ it was terrible I mean the whole th-thing was completely burnt and, and-"

"Shut up." Draco snapped, though his lips had curved up into a slight smirk.

Hermione's thoughts raced. Had he seen her dream? _Oh god, please, no! _How humiliating, how utterly degrading – that she had screamed because _Draco_ had thrown her away when he realized she wasn't some model whore.

Draco's lips curved up even more at her flustered state, however, they dropped fairly quickly.

He shook his head, his blond hair swinging. "Don't let it happen again, do you understand? Next time you might awaken the entire ship, and let me tell you, many of these men don't think before they fire."

He swept out, slamming the door behind him.

Hermione only got out of bed a few moments later, after the shock had worn out. _It was just a dream,_ she told herself. _Get over it. _She prayed that Draco hadn't read it in her mind, but she was pretty sure he hadn't because he hadn't made any crude comment about it or _anything._ She shook out her tresses slowly, mulling over the meaning of that odd dream.

***

Draco swept out of Hermione's room, his cool demeanor wearing off as soon as the door slammed behind him. He didn't know what had come over him, but when he first heard her scream, he felt an icy grip of fear grasp onto his heart, and he found himself smashing his door open and sprinting down the corridor as fast as he could. His wand had been gripped so tightly that he had cuts on his palm from where his nails dug into his skin.

He told himself that he would've felt that way, that panic, if any other crewmember had yelled, but something in his mind, _deep_ inside his mind doubted that. He then tried to tell himself that it was because he needed Hermione to make the bloody potion, and that excuse worked a bit better.

He recalled turning the corner and skidding to a halt in front of Hermione's door and slamming into it, forcing it open. He took in her sitting up in her bed, her cheeks wet and her expression blank.

Draco had been mad, yes, that she had caused him to sprint for no apparent reason, but Draco couldn't deny the immense relief that washed over him when Hermione had stuttered that it had been a bad dream, and that nobody was in her room.

He still searched her mind; he was skilled in occulemency and he knew that Hermione had been telling a blatant lie about the meatloaf – but he didn't expect her dream to have been about _him._ Draco expected it to have been a dream about, who knows, Harry dying or something.

So it took him completely by surprise as he saw himself making out with Hermione, pressed up against the glass of her bedroom… or at least, a blonde Hermione? Taller, bigger boobed, but for some reason they looked the same to him – both Hermiones were breathtaking, but he only felt his pants tighten when the blonde one morphed into the Hermione he knew, the feisty brunette one… That was some heavy snogging – his hands were everywhere, and her legs were wrapped around his waist… Her brown hair was everywhere and her face was flushed with pleasure…

Draco felt a familiar rush of blood in a part of his body and almost wished that it _had_ really been him pushing Hermione up against the mirror of her room until he realized whom, exactly, he was thinking about. _Granger. _He was shocked, however, when the dream-him threw Hermione to the ground and called her filth. Hermione had started crying and Draco had snapped out of the dream immediately.

_So that's what she thinks of me…_ Draco thought bitterly. _Some playboy who just goes for the big-boobed slut hoes, and Granger's only here to be a maid…_

The thought was angering until he realized that it had been an exact reflection on his personality and how he planned to treat Granger during her stay on his ship.

That's when he exited her room – he said something he didn't even remember but hoped sounded intelligent. He couldn't take her blundering lies when she obviously despised him.

He sank to the floor outside her room, wondering why this was so confusing to him. Granger was _Granger,_ nobody to lose sleep over… so how and _why_ was she affecting him in this way? This wasn't supposed to happen.

Suddenly, Draco knew why he was having all these odd feelings. _I haven't slept with a woman in two weeks, _he sighed and reprimanded himself. _No wonder I'm feeling this way. I just need some slut to satisfy me for a couple days._

He glanced once more at Hermione's door and turned away, heading up to the deck so he could get the crew to hurry the ship up. Parker Island had a good port, which meant he could hold a ball, and he would choose one lucky girl to have a little tumble in the sack with for a couple days or weeks. If the crew were good, then maybe they'd get lucky enough to choose one too.

When he reached the deck, he quickly shouted out his orders. The men scrambled to obey, and the ship lurched and began to surge through the waves even faster. Draco went to the bow of the ship and sat on it, letting his legs slide through the wooden railing and dangle over the churning ocean below.

His mind was full of thoughts, but one kept returning to the image of him and Hermione kissing… Draco shook his head impatiently. He had no time for this nonsense. Hermione Granger was invading his brain and he didn't like it at all.

_Just another day or two till we reach Parker Island. Just a little bit more._

***

Hermione whistled a tune as she folded the sheets of Thomas's bed. The crew's sleeping quarters were a few hallways down from Draco's and hers, but their rooms were smaller and they shared it between two men.

Thomas was with rooming with Leslie, Jassim and Patrick, Wesley and Roric, Kyle and Sandy, Frank and Paul (who was sick), and another two pairs that Hermione hadn't met yet. That pulled the crew to a total of fifteen including Draco, and sixteen including herself. Hermione didn't know much about boats (**A/N neither do I) **but she didn't think that was a very large crew. Still, they got things done, and the boat seemed to be in perfect working order.

The cleaning actually took Hermione's mind off things, like her and Draco's little encounter that morning and her weirdly awkward dream, and she was thankful. Folding bedsheets wasn't exactly hard, and tidying rooms with the help of magic was extremely simple.

Hermione spent a few hours going through all the rooms, cleaning them as best she could. They were a lot nicer after she had gone through them, but the sheets and pillows were still coated in nasty things that wouldn't come off no matter how hard Hermione prodded them with her wand.

_I'll get more supplies at the next port we stop at, then, _Hermione told herself. _New sheets, new pillow cases… some detergent, definitely… I wonder if they have a washing machine aboard the ship? Or I could always try to charm the sheets to stay clean, but that's a difficult spell, isn't it…?_

At twelve, Hermione apparated to the kitchen (at first she got lost, but on her second try she made it) and called for Roric to help her cook lunch. Kyle came as well, and Sandy (Kyle's other youthful friend) joined them too since they were both off duty.

Hermione found that the crew were actually all nice people, and she could talk freely with them about Hogwarts and work at the Ministry. She laughed along with Roric as he mocked the ministry's ineffectual attempts to find the ship, and giggled as Kyle reenacted Leslie when he got angry.

Everybody was constantly talking and Hermione found herself enraptured at the interesting stories Roric, Kyle and Sandy had to tell about their childhood and how they ended up on Draco's ship.

All in all, Hermione hadn't ever had that much fun cooking lunch. The three men treated her like they had been friends forever, and Hermione was grateful. She got along well with them, and she hoped the rest of the crew would be just as accepting.

"This soup is delicious, Hermione," Roric called from the other side of the large kitchen.

Hermione smiled. She had told them to call her Hermione because "Miss Granger" sounded too formal, however Kyle always called her Hermy, reminding her greatly of Viktor Krum.

As usual, the men flocked in as pairs or threesomes, eating and then dropping the bowls off in the large sink. They thanked Hermione and told her she was an excellent cook, and Hermione felt the warmth of praise bubble up inside her once more.

"Seems like the men like you," Sandy commented after everyone was finished eating.

Hermione gave a delicate snort as she finished drying the last plate with a swish of her wand. Maybe it wouldn't be a terrible stay after all.

***

The rest of the day passed quickly in the same routine; Hermione worked on the potion after dinner, sitting in Draco's room behind the large cauldron. She avoided his eyes at all costs, trying to forget about the dream.

Draco, however, just sat on his bed and watched her carefully, an indescribable expression on his features. The silence was thick and the tension was palpable, but neither did anything to break it.

_He's trying to make me lose concentration! _Hermione thought angrily, stirring the bubbling potion forcefully. _He's waiting for me to make a mistake._

She turned back to the chopping table, picking up a silver knife to continue dicing the Hippogriff bladder. As she began slicing the warm, bloody stuff, the knife slipped out of her bloody grip and clattered to the floor, ringing in the silence.

Draco let out a quiet chuckle and Hermione felt herself going bright red. As she bent down to pick the knife up, she imagined turning around and throwing it at Draco forcefully. He'd catch it, probably, but the thought still gave her a savage pleasure. Hermione sighed dejectedly as the dream dissipated. She would never do something like that.

Unfortunately, her fingers were still coated in the bladder blood and as she got up from the floor she stumbled. The heavy silver knife slipped out of her grasp and fell straight down, cutting easily through the material of her shorts and slicing through the skin on her inside thigh.

Hermione gave a gasp and time seemed to stand still for a second. Hippogriff blood was poisonous.

Hermione stared at the blood seeping out of the thin slice on her thigh, shocked. How could she have been this clumsy? It was his entirefault! He had distracted her and now she was poisoned! Hermione repeated it in her head but knew that it had truly been her fault for being affected by him so.

She tried to tug her eyes away from the small wound but found that she couldn't. Her breaths were coming in short, uneven pants and all thought of how to heal herself had slipped out of mind.

_How do I get poison out of my bloodstream?! _She thought desperately. _It should be easy! I learnt about this in what, second year?!_

Hermione couldn't remember anything.

Suddenly, cold fingers slipped through the tear in the material of her trousers and pressed against the wound experimentally. Draco was suddenly kneeling on the ground in front of her, his gray eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a determined line. All Hermione could see was his bright hair.

Hermione let out a small gasp his cold digits pressed against the warm flow of blood; whether it was from the pain or the fact that his fingers were very, very close to her…_you know, _she couldn't tell.

Hermione was too shocked to push Draco away or do _anything,_ actually. The poison was slowly spreading, and the edge of the wound was already turning a purplish colour.

Draco's fingers re-emerged from the cut and he looked at the blood experimentally, bringing them up to his nose and breathing in slightly.

"How do you feel, Granger?" he asked, his voice sounding cool.

Hermione's voice trembled when she answered. "I… I don't know… prickly sensations up and down my spine and a weird feeling in my stomach. Is that normal?"

Draco's eyes shot up to hers quickly, his eyebrows raised and a smile tugging at his lips. He avoided her question and shot out, business like once more, "Do you feel any pain?"

Hermione shook her head swiftly. "Not really, actually… No pain at all! Should this be hurting me? Should I be in pain? _Am I numb? _Why can't I feel anything?!" her voice grew higher and more hysterical.

Draco's eyes seemed to flash dangerously. Hermione couldn't place the expression that appeared for a moment, but if she had to guess she would've said panic.

"Take off your shorts, Granger." Draco commanded. His voice was tense.

Hermione's mouth dropped, but the strange feeling of _not _feeling was bothering her greatly. She couldn't even feel the blood running down her thigh anymore. Draco wouldn't try anything funny, would he? Hermione made a split second decision. She _knew_ Hippogriff blood was poisonous and she was drawing a blank on all answers.

Hermione had no choice but to let Draco help her.

Hermione quickly shimmied out of the shorts, nervously biting her lip. They pooled around her ankles baggily, leaving Hermione standing in her white underwear which exposed all her legs. The cut was even more exposed now, and it was turning a dark purple around the edges, and her blue veins stood out against the smooth skin.

Draco grabbed her thigh roughly, pulling her closer to his kneeling form, contemplating something. Hermione moved awkwardly, stumbling to a position right in front of him, so close she could feel his breath against her flesh. His head was bent over the wound and Hermione was extremely self-conscious and she was feeling heat creep up her neck. The odd swooping sensation in her stomach grew even more pronounced as she felt Draco's steady breaths fluttering against her skin.

"W-what are you d-doing?" Hermione asked. She found that she was feeling dizzier and her breaths were even more haggard, as if she couldn't get enough air down her throat. "You better not try anything funny!"

Draco took a deep breath in and Hermione prepared herself for what he was going to do next – maybe he was going to jab his wand in her cut and heal it somehow? Maybe he was going to pour a potion he handily had in his shirt pocket on the wound? She resolved to stay still and not make any noise even if it was painful. If Draco was going to help save her, Hermione was going to do anything she could to make it easier.

She _didn't_ expect to be staring dizzily up at the ceiling a moment later, having been knocked onto her back by Draco himself, who was now straddling her waist. Her mind quickly went back to the time they had first met on the beach – they had been in a position similar to this.

Hermione was winded and she was trying to breath in but her throat seemed to be constricted. She could still squeeze air into her lungs, but it was a slow job and it rattled through her throat.

She felt Draco shift on top of her and felt him slide down her body, till he was kneeling between her legs, which were spread open like some common whore. He lowered his head to her right thigh, where the cut was, and his nose paused a millimeter above the sliced skin as Hermione wheezed a question.

"What are… what are you d-doing?"

Draco raised his head quickly, his silver eyes flashing. "I have to suck the venom out, Granger. It's easier with you lying down."

As his lips drew closer to the wound, he didn't choose to elaborate that Hippogriff blood affected the body in only two ways: it stopped pain, and it caused the air canal to slowly contract as the poison spread.

Hippogriff blood certainly did not cause shivers up the spine and flutters in the stomach. Hermione had been feeling those for an entirely different reason.

***

I love your reviews and positive feedback!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter :\

REVIEW COMMENTS:

Aerde: the ship just seemed so dull without him (: thank youu!

Irisheart8: thank you for your suggestion though! I loved it and I will definitely think about adding it in the upcoming chapters.

Lya Darkfury: Thank you and thank you (: I hope I'm not moving too fast now. I love the stage when they _think_ they hate each other!

Keke Koorime: Thank you! I will.

Eldarwen melwasul: That's such a great compliment!

.Poisoned Scarlet.: that's kyle :] and I'm updating fast now because I've actually written out most of the story up till now… I just tweak this or that before I submit it, and it only takes a day or so. So when I'm done posting all the chapters I've already written, it might take a little longer (JUST A LITTLE) for the chapters to come out – but I assure you they will be longer and worth waiting for :)

In Dreams: I like pirates too! :D

Jade2009: I'm _really_ trying to make Hermione _not_ look like a housewife. I don't know why I want her to cook ): probably because I can't – but just because Hermione knows how to cook doesn't mean she's any weaker! And you betcha.

Cat18: Hope you like this one then (:

IGOTEAMEDWARD: OH yes it will be quite fun to write.

BroadwayNightOwl: Thank you for still loving it!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling.

A/N: Sorry for the longer wait than usual ): I don't know what came over me; I just sort of lost motivation for a couple days. But don't worry; I'm interested to see where this takes me once again.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Hermione gave out a very audible gasp as Draco's lips first met her wound. He began applying gentle pressure, sucking as his tongue gently caressed the cut. He raised his head and his lips were ruby red, streaks running down his chin.

Hermione looked away. He looked like a monster.

Draco had conjured up a bucket of some sort, and he spat into it. His teeth and tongue were covered in blood. It was quite off-putting and Hermione was disgusted.

He continued to suck and spit, suck and spit, making a continuous routine. The feeling was slowly inching back into her wounded leg; it started as a slow burn but it was escalating greatly and was becoming hotter with each suck.

Hermione steeled her mind. She wasn't as shell-shocked anymore and she was actually extremely disappointed in herself that she had _actually_ let that happen. Hermione Granger didn't make mistakes. At least, that's what everyone thought. Hermione tried to live up to her reputation but sometimes she found herself making stupid, careless mistakes, such as the brainless fumbling she'd done with the silver knife. God, if Snape could see her now, he'd have a fucking field day.

_Always wear gloves,_ he had constantly reminded her.

Not only was that a mistake, the even _bigger _one was getting caught and getting stuck on this bloody ship. Hermione gritted her teeth as the burning became even hotter. Her stomach was beginning to clench as well.

There was an easier way to get rid of poison, but they didn't have the equipment. But where did Malfoy ever learn how to use a Muggle way of removing blood from your bloodstream? The thought of him, going through muggle remedies, made Hermione cringe.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked at her sudden flinch. "This should be painful, but you haven't said a word."

Hermione winced at Draco's beastly look – blood dripping out of his mouth was _not_ a sight Hermione ever wanted to encounter again. She shook her head. If she said anything, she might scream. Her stomach was convulsing and her throat and entire body felt like it was on fire. Beads of sweat were pouring down her face.

Draco understood her pained expression and shifted his attention back to her wound, continuing the suck-then-spit routine. He was being so… so _gentle,_ it was surprising. His fingers were lightly playing on the surrounding skin of Hermione's leg, tracing light patterns on her flushed skin. It was almost as if he didn't even realize what his hands were doing, so concentrated on sucking out the poison.

Hermione was writhing now. Her body felt like it had been dipped in lava and all her coherent thoughts had burnt along with it. This was the problem with using muggle ways to remove magical creature's poison – it wouldn't go easily.

Hermione was aware of keeping her lips clamped shut and she could feel her nails raking against the floor. She _tried_ to keep as still as possible, but it was actually proving to be a hard feat because all she wanted to do was jump into the ocean.

"Granger?" Draco's voice cut through her thoughts. "Granger, answer me."

His soft lips had removed themselves from her leg and the cool fingers were no longer tracing patterns.

Hermione cracked open an eye that felt it weighed a million tons. Everything was blurry and out of focus. "Mmmghhhd," she managed to squeeze past her lips.

A cool hand swept her hair out of her face and rested lightly on her forehead, feeling for her temperature. Hermione leaned into the cool touch, and it drew back slightly as if surprised, before staying still.

"Hermione, you should be cooling down very soon. I'm going to go… ah, clean off this blood. Just stay still. You probably wont be able to move for a couple of days, but that's okay," Draco said gently, removing his cool hand from her face.

Draco's words registered dimly somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind. What else was she supposed to do? She could barley lift her arm. Everything felt heavy and disorientated, but Draco was right – she _was_ cooling down, even if it was only a tiny little degree.

A few, endless minutes later, Hermione found herself able to open both eyes and prop herself gingerly up on her elbows. She looked at the slice on her leg. The skin around it was no longer an angry purple-red, but instead a pale, pasty colour. At least the poison was out.

Hermione berated herself. How could she have been so _stupid? _So clumsy and so careless? Hermione felt her brow furrow in disappointment at her less-than-average performance.

_Malfoy's probably laughing up a storm in the bathroom,_ she told herself weakly.

Still, she remembered that fleeting look of panic in his eyes and the gentle feel of his touch as he meticulously drew out the poison. What did it mean?

Hermione struggled upright. The heat had died down, and now it just felt as if she had been in the sun for a very long time. Her breath wheezed out and her stomach lurched as she stumbled to her feet. After-effects of the poison.

Hermione grit her teeth and stood straight, raising her arms above her head. The best way would be to get as much oxygen into her lungs and into her limbs. The rest would depend on her immune system – however, it should be rather high because of her constant proximity to potions and their fumes.

Sure enough, a few minutes after Hermione had raised her arms above her head, the dead-weight feeling in her limbs was slowly dissipating, and she could feel her throat freeing up slightly. Her body was still flushed, but it was bearable. She was still slightly off-balance and a lot weaker than she should've been at her normal state, but she was doing a lot better than a normal person who had just been poisoned by hippogriff blood should've been.

"Accio wand!" Hermione called, and her wand whisked into her hand. She sat down heavily, muttering "_Ferula_."

Bandages wrapped around her wound, tight and compact. She sighed and drew a hand down her sticky, sweaty face. This whole day had been going so well, and she had to screw everything up with a stupid mess.

_I'll get this bloody potion made if it's the last thing I do. And no more mistakes._

With that thought in mind, Hermione determinedly made her way back to the large, steaming cauldron. Conjuring up some heavy-duty gloves, she began to dice the bladder once more, resolve written all over her face.

***

Draco eyed himself in the bathroom mirror, washing his hands over and over. The water collecting at the bottom of the sink was an interesting pink colour, swirling around like his thoughts.

What had drove him to do the dirty deed of sucking the venom out himself? He could have easily called Frank for an antidote… or would that have taken too much time? What else _could _ he have done? Was there any other way to have saved her?

Draco shook his head, mystified. He had willingly put his mouth to a mudblood's leg and had _sucked_ her _blood_ into his _mouth. _Her dirty, muddy blood – which had been bright red and did not taste like mud, but like the regular, tangy taste of blood. There was no difference between the blood coursing through his veins.

It had taken five rinses to get the red stain from his tongue and teeth, but he could still taste it in his mouth.

Draco turned and swiftly kneeled before the toilet. His stomach was heaving and he felt the unusually saltiness in his mouth that you only feel before a throw-up. _Everything _he had just done went against his family's morals; everything he had just done defied his father in every possible way.

Yet Draco could not feel bad, or angry with the slender girl in the other room. Maybe that was what was causing him to feel so odd, so lost. No matter how hard he tried, he only felt that same ridiculous, destructive feeling of relief that she was okay.

_When did I get so protective? _Draco thought to himself, covering his eyes with his hand. _Hermione Granger must leave._

He remembered the shocked look on her face when the knife thudded into the floor. As if she couldn't believe that it had been _her_ who had just messed up; who had just accidently made a little slip. Perfect Granger wasn't so perfect after all, was she? Draco could've laughed. He could've sneered as he watched her struggle.

But there was that look in her deep brown eyes – the one that clearly said that all thought had left her mind and she had forgotten _everything_ that could help her in that moment. The completely head-over-heels lost look in her doe eyes. She had turned to _him_ for help.

How could he have refused?

Look what she had done. Hermione Granger had brought Draco Malfoy, the infallible Draco Malfoy, to his knees in front of a toilet.

Draco stood up hastily with that thought. No one brought him to his knees – not even a dirty, stupid girl who was causing him all sorts of problems even though she had the softest skin he had ever –

_Stop. _

***

Hermione swept the diced bladder into the potion and was careful to lay the silver knife back down on its side, on the table. Her eyes were growing heavy and she was dead tired from what she had just been through.

The potion hissed and it turned into a brilliant silver colour, bubbling and frothing. Hermione smiled wearily. She was _so _tired, and she had just finished adding the last ingredient she needed for that night.

She stood up and yawned, moving slowly towards the door. Now all she needed to do was to get back to her room, and she could take a nice, long, steamy bath, then she'd flop onto her soft, velvety bed.

Hermione staggered to the door. Her eyelids were heavy and she was about to drop on her feet. She willed herself to perform one more task - she apparated on the spot and found herself lying haphazardly across her bed.

She was asleep within the second.

***

Draco exited the bathroom, not quite knowing what he would do when he saw Hermione on the floor. He'd apparate her back to her room and maybe he'd watch over her for a couple hours – just to see if she was alright?

However, the girl was not lying where she had been placed on the ground. In fact, she was nowhere in the room, and the potion was bubbling frantically.

_She… she got up?_ Draco thought in awe. _She was supposed to be out cold for two or three days… how? Is she back in her room?_

Draco looked around once more, _just_ to check if she was hiding somewhere in his room.

_Should I apparate to her bedroom? To check on her?_

Draco swallowed. What if she was changing? What if she was taking a bath…? His face heated up. He had no right thinking of those things –

_I have every fucking right to think about anything I fucking want! _Draco bellowed in his mind. _Girls fall over themselves to fuck me, why the _hell_ am I being such a fucking pansy?! _

Draco angrily tore his shirt off and climbed into the bed. What was Hermione doing to him? He didn't act like this. He didn't rescue girls. He didn't willingly suck poison out of their bloodstream. What the _hell_ was wrong with him?

Draco inwardly raged for a few more minutes, tossing and turning angrily. He was extremely upset at his less-than-manly act. _I'm going all soft._

As he closed his eyes and finally drifted off to sleep, something in the back of his mind knew that he would check up on Hermione in the morning.

***

Hermione felt a presence in the room, but she couldn't bring her eyelids to open so she could check whom it was. She could feel the sunlight against her eyelids, so it must be morning.

Her bed was so comfortable and her eyelids were so tired. She wanted to sleep and sleep and sleep, and never wake up.

However, the thought of having a serial killer in the room with her made her eyes groggily blink open and Hermione found herself looking at a very sheepish looking Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway.

He shifted his eyes when hers sleepily found his. "I… I came to check on you in case you hadn't made it back to your room."

Hermione licked her lips and coughed gently. "You come to check now?" her voice was hoarse and scratchy. "I could've collapsed in the hallway and you would've only found me this morning?"

Draco's eyes narrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. "That's rich, saying that to someone who saved your life last night."

Hermione groaned and shoved her face into her pillow. "That's so embarrassing. I can't believe I messed up like that."

Draco raised his eyebrows. They were almost having… they were almost having a _normal_ conversation.

"It's okay, you know," he found himself saying. "Everyone makes mistakes."

Hermione looked up from her pillow and found her eyes slightly watery. "Thanks but… but _I_ don't make mistakes. I know that sounds really cocky, but it's part of my job and part of my upbringing. I'm not supposed to make mistakes. My whole life is based on perfection."

Her voice grew softer and softer and she buried her face into the pillow once more.

Draco, not knowing what to say, turned and left her room, closing the door behind him. He paused once and said, "You… you can rest today, if you'd like,"

Hermione made a soft noise of thanks, and Draco quickly left before he said anything else that made him sound too nice and soft and everything he _didn't _want to be associated with.

***

Hermione fell back asleep quickly, and awoke almost seven hours later. Dusk was beginning to fall and she was still tired, albeit not as much as she had been before.

She took a quick shower, mulling over her thoughts and how kind Draco had been. Had Hermione possibly misjudged him? The way he had treated her the first time they had met on the island hadn't been very kind, but then again, she _had_ been egging him on and acting like a pretty big bitch.

_I had every right to do that! He was kidnapping me. _

But then he had to completely change his ways and help her remove the poison from her stupid accident, then check up on her in the morning. The Draco she knew from school wouldn't have done something like that in a million years – but then again, this new Draco was completely different and Hermione wasn't even sure she had brushed the surface of his complex being.

He had such strange mood swings – being nice, then cold and distant, then kind… Hermione didn't know what to make of it. It was disconcerting that she was on a ship with a bunch of people she didn't even _know,_ and although she thought that she had known Draco, she really couldn't say that anymore.

Hermione dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of slacks and a long t-shirt. It wasn't the best outfit, but she wasn't trying to look good and she honestly didn't care. She was comfortable.

She made her way down the hallway, deciding not to apparate. Apparating last night had been rather painful, with her sore stomach, and she would have to stay away from that way of transportation unless it was absolutely necessary.

Her blood would be pumping abnormally slow because of the poison that had been coursing through her veins the night before, so she would get tired more easily and would probably be weak for a few days. If she were at the ministry, they would've given her a month off and possibly even have sent her to St. Mungo's, where they would keep her confined to a bed for a week or more.

That's how long she should've been in bed. Hermione shouldn't have been walking around the day after she was poisoned, but being in bed made Hermione feel extremely useless and she would have none of it. She had already proven what a klutz she was, and she wasn't about to lay in bed for a couple more days.

_Maybe I'll pay a visit to Paul. Just to see how he's faring._

***

Hermione reached Paul's door fairly quickly; having memorized the path Frank had showed her the first day. There was no sound coming from the other side of the door, and Hermione swallowed.

She pushed open the door gently, whispering out Paul's name. The room was completely dark, as usual, and Hermione quickly thought _Lumos_ to brighten it up. The tip of her wand began to light, casting an eerie glow over the room.

The bed was empty, covered with spots of blood and the sheets were lying on the ground. Hermione swallowed nervously. Where the hell was Paul? She moved her light over the room and stifled a gasp.

Paul was curled up in a corner, next to the dresser, rocking back and forth. The soft, greenish glow of Hermione's wand cast a very unnatural glow around the room, and Hermione was thoroughly creeped out.

"Paul, what are you doing?" Hermione asked nervously. "Get back into bed!"

Paul continued to rock back and forth, muttering insane words. Hermione hesitated. She didn't really want to venture further into the room with Paul in this state, but she couldn't just leave him curled up in the corner. In that position, his wound was probably being compressed and bleeding profusely… this would not be good. Paul could not lose any more blood than he already had.

Hermione quickly stepped into the room, holding her glowing wand out in front of her like a weapon. Paul could be hallucinating, or possibly even think that Hermione was the enemy. It would do no good to put her guard down.

The light from the hallway had been spilling into the room, but suddenly the door slammed shut. Hermione let out a little squeak of surprise, turning to see what had shut the door. Nothing. Nobody was there, just the door.

She turned back to Paul and found him gone from the corner. A prickly feeling of dread was rising up the back of her neck.

"Paul?" she whispered, spinning around on the spot. "PAUL."

A deep, harsh voice filled the room. Hermione froze in surprise. It was coming from_ everywhere. _

"_From the depths it will arise,_

_Beneath the frothing, roaring waves._

_It promises a swift demise, _

_As you venture slow into your graves._

_Sail away and past the straits,_

_Do not go near the island chain_

_Go not through the guarded gates_

_Let the unseen triangle remain." _

The rattling voice stopped and Hermione heard a _thud_. She turned quickly to where the sound had been heard and gave a little moan. Paul was lying, face down, on the carpet directly behind her, blocking her path to the door. The fact that he was blocking her path was not what caused her to moan – it was the fact that blood was steadily seeping into the carpet from his stomach. This was _not_ good.

Hermione hesitated slightly. She wanted to light up the room more, but she didn't know if it would hurt Paul – he hadn't been in light for quite some time. But the only way she could help him would be with light, seeing as she couldn't see much with her pathetic _lumos. _Did she have another choice?

"_Lumos maxima!" _Hermione whispered, and a brilliant light shot up to the ceiling, hovering there and casting a brighter light around the room.

Paul looked terrible, lying on the floor. His body colour was completely off, even more so than it was before, and he looked like he had been knocked out from the strain of his odd behavior.

"Paul, Paul," Hermione groaned, dropping to her knees in front of the injured sailor. "What _did_ this to you…?"

Muttering a _mobilicorpus, _Hermione maneuvered the body gently so it was floating above the bed. She quickly cleaned the bed sheets as best she could, siphoning off the blood, but it was still stained a dull pink. She lowered Paul once more to the sheets without a struggle. His odd poem rang in her mind.

"_Ferula!" _

Bandages wrapped once more around his grotesque wound and around the rest of his stomach and chest.

Hermione quickly conjured up some cold towels and pressed them against Paul's hot forehead. His breathing was shallow and uneven.

"_Anapeneo!" _

It handy little spell that cleared blocked airways, and if Hermione had said it right (which she always did), Paul's breathing should've evened out. It seemed to work slightly and Hermione breathed out in relief. She should probably get Draco and tell him about what had happened.

Hermione backed out of the room slowly, opening the door that had so mysteriously closed. She removed the light and began to make her way slowly to the deck.

***

"Malfoy!" Hermione called as she reached the upper deck. The sun was vanishing below the horizon, but bright streaks of pink and yellow and orange were still clear.

Malfoy was at the wheel once more, his gloved hands gripping the wheel tightly, his eyes looking somewhere in the horizon. He noticed the small figure moving towards him and his eyes flicked to hers.

"Granger?"

"Malfoy," Hermione said urgently. "I went to check up on Paul and he did something _really_ weird, he began reciting this weird rhyme in this deep, throaty voice then he collapsed and…"

Frank, overhearing their conversation, rushed to the pair.

"Paul was awake?" Frank cried. "How? I gave him one of my most potent sleeping potions!"

Draco was staring, his brow furrowed and a look of wariness over his features. "He said something, did he?"

Hermione nodded, quickly reciting the poem. For some reason, it had burned into her mind and she remembered every word he had uttered.

Frank and Draco looked at each other for a moment, communicating silently.

"We'll have to change our course," Frank uttered incredulous. "This… I can't believe…"

Hermione coughed slightly. "How do you know he's telling the truth? He could've been hallucinating, couldn't he?"

Draco shook his head. His voice was heavy. "Paul… Paul's great-grandmother was a seer. It's only natural that he makes a prediction every once in a while… it's happened before. They've all been warnings, but nothing as worrying as this."

Frank groaned. "What… what are we going to do?"

Draco heaved a sigh. "We'll have to stop at Parker Island for a longer period of time then I initially wanted. Then we'll decipher what Paul said and see if it's really necessary to avoid _there_ by all costs."

Hermione looked from man to man. "Do you know what the poem means?"

Draco's features were drawn as he looked towards the horizon. "There's a very high chance that he's talking about the area in which he was injured. Frank… will you bring Hermione into your office and explain? I have to man the ship, and Parker Island is just a few more hours away."

Frank nooded, and grasping Hermione's arm, apparated away.

***

They landed in a small, circular room that was a dark brown colour. It was attractive and smelt like parchment and ink, something Hermione was very familiar with. There was a circular table in the middle of the room, and Frank and Hermione sat themselves upon two wooden chairs that surrounded it.

Frank took out a piece of parchment and began scribbling down the poem that Paul had said. "Beneath… waves… beware… beast…"

Hermione watched him silently, pondering the meaning of the odd poem. So Paul's great-grandmother had been a seer, and he got premonitions sometimes too. But didn't seer-powers skip a generation? That would mean that Paul's parents, mother or father, would've gotten the gift and Paul would've missed it. Odd.

Frank wiped the ink from his fingertips with a dainty white handkerchief. "Miss Granger, I presume you'd like to know how Paul got hurt?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "That would be informative."

Frank slowly breathed through his nose, closing his eyes for a second as if trying to remember what exactly had happened. As he opened his mouth, he hesitated.

"I think it would be best if I showed you."

Frank got up slowly and went to a cabinet behind Hermione's chair, beckoning her to come. He opened the rusty handles to show a pure marble bowl with a silvery substance floating inside, looking lighter than air. _A pensieve. _

Frank lifted his wand to his temple and drew out a fine strand of silver, which he promptly dropped into the bowl, where it began to spin.

"Please, after you," Frank said kindly.

Hermione looked at the blossoming black in the pensieve and licked her lips. It was just a memory; why did she have such a bad feeling in her gut? Steadying her nerves, Hermione gripped the side of the bowl with both hands and plunged her head into the substance.

***

It felt like she was falling through a spider-web; streaks lined the world around her as the memory began to take shape. Everything was silent and surreal for a brief moment before Hermione's feet touched a solid surface, and _bang._

Everything exploded into a jumble of sound, sights, yells and screams.

Hermione found herself back on the deck of a very familiar ship. The sky was a dark, stormy gray, and the waves were large and ferocious, slamming against the sides of the ship. It was lurching and crashing unsteadily over the large, frothing swells.

Because it was a memory, Hermione was in absolutely no danger and she felt oddly detached from the scene in front of her. She could feel the ship pitch over the dark waves, but she was somehow still stable on her feet.

Around her, chaos was raging. Men were tearing at each other like rabid beasts; the crew she was familiar with against odd-looking men with large, disproportional bodies, sunken eyes and gaunt features, as if their sallow looking skin had been stretched tight over bones. They unfamiliar creature-men were dripping wet and a disgusting greenish yellow colour; one's arm was blown off and a putrid-looking water-like liquid gushed out.

The sound of swords clanging and curses being thrown was unbelievable. Men and creatures were thrown left and right, often falling over the wooden railing of the boat, landing with a splash in the dark waters. There was screaming and yelling, and a creature was blown through Hermione's shadowy form after being hit by a curse.

A hand grasped her arm and Hermione jumped before realizing that it was merely Frank. He was looking at the scene with sadness and fury in his eyes.

"We lost so many that day," he said softly, but Hermione could hear him like he had shouted in her ear.

Hermione gestured towards a disproportional, staggering pale-man. "Who are they and why are you fighting them?"

Frank looked at Hermione, surprised. "You can't tell what those things are? They were very popular with Lord Voldemort at the height of his time."

Hermione looked closely at the odd, sluggish creatures. "No!" she cried, realization dawing. "_Inferi?" _

Frank nodded solemnly.

"They _can't_ be inferi! There can't be that _many_ of them; inferi need to be controlled by one source and you would need such a large number of already-dead bodies…"

A jet of fire spewed from a younger looking Wesley's wand, hitting one of the creatures dead in the chest. It staggered back a few steps but seemed to have absorbed the blow, and carried on making it's way towards Wesley.

Hermione pointed that out. "Inferi are scared of heat and light as well! That spell should've completely demolished it."

Frank gave Hermione a wry, humorless smile. "They're inferi, but slightly different as well. These are all men who drowned at sea, and they are all controlled by a very dark source. A monster, to be exact."

Hermione looked at Frank with growing apprehension in her eyes. "Inferi, controlled by a monster? That's… that's new."

Frank nodded solemnly as the battle raged around them. "It's dangerous, old magic. People believe that the monster that controls these creatures died centuries ago, but seafarers know better. The ministry hides all evidence under 'unfortunate accidents'. They don't want to busy themselves trying to destroy the monster – it would be too much paperwork and far too dangerous. They let the monster live in the sea and they watch over the land."

Hermione instinctively ducked as a jet of red light flew over her head, even though it would've flown straight through her. She saw a less-haggard looking Frank slice one of the corpses' heads off, which let out a jet of foul liquid.

Frank sighed. "The monster preys on ships like ours, except most of the time they're muggle navy ships or cargo ships. Easy prey; they don't know how to defend themselves and guns are useless against them. Once the people aboard the ship die and they are swallowed by the ocean, they are turned into an army of inferi. This another reason how the sea inferi are different than normal inferi."

Hermione recited what she had learnt long ago slowly. "Regular inferi… they can't think for themselves; normal inferi are created to perform a specific duty assigned by the wizard who commands them and can only perform _that_ specific duty."

Frank nodded. "These sea creatures will do _whatever_ the monster asks of them. They do not die unless they are fully dismembered, and once their task of destroying a ship is complete, they sink back down into the ocean to await their next orders."

Hermione listened with rapt attention. This was morbidly fascinating.

Frank gestured towards a sailor Hermione did not know who caused one corpse to be blasted into several pieces with his wand.

"But sometimes the monster underestimates the strength of the sailors that are on the ship. As you can see, the battle is already evening out. The monster only sent a few of its minions, believing that our ship would easily be captured, and we are quickly exiting its territory. Do you see that rock formation over there?"

Frank pointed to a large chain of rocks in the horizon, rising from the dark sea. Hermione nodded and ducked again as a piece of wood blasted over her head.

"That's where this monster's territory ends, and it cannot venture past it without angering the next territory's beast. We were so close to escaping as well…" Frank murmured, turning back to the boat. "You must watch carefully now."

Hermione waited for something to happen. The sailors were destroying the corpses, and there were only a few left. It seemed like the sailors were going to win this battle after all – most of their faces had wild looks of hope and victory.

Hermione turned to the back of the ship and was not surprised to see Draco manning the wheel, gripping onto the wood while skillfully cursing the remaining inferi on the deck below him. The wind was picking up and the waves were growing higher and angrier, as if something beneath them was growing very angry. She could see the concentration etched all over Draco's face as he fought to keep the ship under control as it was tossed between the ferocious waves like a toy.

Suddenly, pillars shot up around the ship; huge, _massive_ pillars that stretched towards the sky and were so thick that Hermione bet it would take at least five of her to wrap fully around them. It was only after the pillars started to curl and bend that Hermione realized that they weren't pillars but giant tentacles.

Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw dropped as droplets of water rained down from the massive, looming tentacles. She had never seen _anything_ like this; she had never expected the monster to be this… this _huge._ From what Harry and Ron had said about the size of the basilisk they faced back in second year; each tentacle was longer _and_ larger than one. Her hands clasped over her mouth.

The rocks that signified the end of the giant sea monster's territory were achingly close. The crew staring up at the beast's tentacles were open-mouthed in dismay and horror. Time seemed to slow down for a few seconds as the tentacles coiled around the air above the ship.

"_Shield charms!" _Draco roared.

Everything seemed to spin into motion.

"_Protego!"_ the crew yelled, almost in unison, pointing at the sky. The chopped up corpses lay scattered on the deck, forgotten.

Jets of green lights shot from all wands, connecting somewhere high above the ship, between coiling tentacles. The light expanded into a bubble like shape; wrapping the ship in a small, tight sphere of green light. The ship continued to edge closer and closer to the ending point of the territory. The tentacles began to slam down into the water, as if trying to slam something it couldn't see, causing massive waves to form. Draco was expertly steering the ship through the mass of looping tentacles as the crew struggled to keep up the shield charm.

The charm had yet to be proven useful; the tentacles kept missing, sometimes by mere inches and glancing off the edge of the charm.

"The monster has terrible eyesight. Usually it never has to do this, and it's even harder for it to pinpoint the exact location of magic vessels because of the conflicting magic auras." Frank explained softly, his eyes trained on the giant beast's tentacles. "But eventually they do… or it's just a lucky strike."

As if on cue, a giant tentacle slammed into the sphere encircling the ship. The tentacle bounced off and slithered back into the water, but the ship's sudden lurch had caused almost all the men to fly backwards, landing in dazed heaps on the deck. The charm flickered and died, leaving the ship defenseless once more.

Only three men remained standing; Malfoy, Frank, and one sailor Hermione realized to be Paul. They were shouting over the harsh wind and the water that was whipping in their faces and eyes.

"Get _up!_ GET UP!" Malfoy was roaring in frustration, his grip on the wheel deadly.

Frank was shooting curses and cutting hexes so fast it was a blur. They hit the tentacles straight on, but only caused a minimal amount of damage.

A large tentacle lifted itself high in the air, preparing to drop straight onto the deck of the ship. As it began to fall in an eerily graceful ark, a blurred object scrambled over scattered pieces of dead bodies and random broken objects that littered the deck. It was Paul, a long gash on his forehead and his nose bleeding from the strain of the previous shield charm. His face was determined and set and Hermione felt her eyes water as he stumbled to a halt below where the tentacle was falling slowly.

"_No!" _Frank and Draco roared at the same time.

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand once more. Draco and Frank had both began to run over towards Paul, but they were far too far away to make it in time. To make it before the giant tentacle crushed the ship and Paul. It was large enough to be able to completely crunch the ship, possibly even snap it easily in half.

Paul brandished his wand and drew in a deep breath.

"_Protego totalum!" _he bellowed.

A fierce jet of green light spewed from the tip of his wand and hit the tentacle straight on; light exploded into the sky and Hermione closed her eyes from the sudden onslaught of brightness. The real Frank was gripping her arm so tightly it was painful, but Hermione didn't have the heart to pry his grip away; his eyes were so filled with anger, frustration, regret and sadness and his face was a mask of pain.

When Hermione was able to look again, bow of the ship had just edged past the chain of rocks. The tentacle, which was lying, black and withered, on the deck, slithered painfully back into the sea. The other tentacles reluctantly followed; the ship was now in another territory and was off-limits.

Hermione surveyed the destruction that the ship had gone through in horrified awe. Parts of the railing had been blown to smithereens and the main mast had snapped cleanly in two. There were scorch marks on the deck and on other wooden surfaces from the curses the men had fired, and bodies littered the deck. Blood mixed with the swirling salt water and there were grunts and groans of pain.

The water swirled around and through Hermione's feet – in the memory, she couldn't feel anything. Frank pulled her gently towards where Paul had stood up against the tentacle; Draco and Frank's memory-self were kneeling next to him.

She peeked over their shoulders and her heart broke. Paul was lying in a pool of his own blood. His eyes, nose, mouth and ears had streaks of blood bubbling from them. The strain of the charm he had used was so taxing that he had burst almost all his blood vessels, and his face was deathly white. His white shirt was blossoming with blood and Draco gingerly removed it and groaned. The puncture would was visible and disgusting, and the barb was _still_ inside. It was the size of Hermione's forearm, glistening white.

The memory-Frank gave a little moan of despair. "Draco… what are we going to do?"

Draco swept a hand through his wet hair. "We're going to… we're going to have to kill him, Frank. You know the kraken. Once it's made its mark, it wont stop following us until it completely destroys Paul…"

Frank shook his head frantically. "You _can't_ kill him. We need him Draco; he's one of our best crewmen."

Draco covered his face in his hands. "We'll go to the next port. Get some potions. Keep him in the most stable state we can. Maybe we'll be able to drain the poison from him?"

Memory-Frank nodded, his face drawn and white.

"That will be enough," Real-Frank whispered in Hermione's ear, and his grip lessoned.

The scene before her seemed to grow blurry and unfocused before turning into streaks of black, and Hermione lifted her head from the pensieve.

***

Frank was standing up, his back to the young brunette. "And that is how Paul's injury was sustained."

Hermione felt shocked and numb. "I don't understand though – Paul looked so defeated. How come he's not dead?"

"Paul is a very strong wizard, as you can tell from the amazing protego charm he had displayed against the kraken. We stopped at the next port we could, to fix up the ship. The locals avoided us. We had the stench of monster written all over our faces. We lost eight men that day; six of them had been thrown overboard and we never found them. Two more were overpowered by the inferi. Many more were injured; however Paul received the worst. There was a medi-witch at the port. She healed his bones and his other injuries, but she wouldn't touch the kraken injury."

Hermione had suspicions that the monster _was_ indeed the kraken, but having it said in front of her gave her the shivers. The thought of having an enormous, _unbelievably_ large beast miles underneath the small, defenseless ship made Hermione shudder with fear. She had heard stories of the kraken, but she hadn't really believed them to be real. Then again, she hadn't believed in basilisks either.

Hermione sighed and ran her hand through her bushy hair. "This is a lot to think about, Frank,"

Frank turned around and gave her a ghost of a smile. "Yes, it is. And I'm sorry. And… thank you for understanding. You're a very generous, kind woman, Hermione…"

Hermione blushed modestly, and the door was flung open to reveal a very bothered Draco, scowling fiercely.

"How long does it _take_ to explain something like that? You've been in here almost an hour. What have you been doing?" he snapped.

Frank and Hermione shared a look, causing Draco's scowl to deepen even more. Could it be possible? Could Draco Malfoy be jealous?

Frank gave a forced laugh and quickly exited the room, patting Draco on the back and leaving them awkwardly together.

Hermione looked down. "I'm sorry about what… what happened with Paul."

Draco gave a soft grunt. "Why? It's not your fault. You weren't there. You couldn't have helped him."

Hermione raised her eyes and glanced at Draco. "Malfoy, this _wasn't_ your fault. You couldn't have done anything! Are you really blaming yourself for this tragedy?"

Draco slammed his hand down on the desk. "I am _always_ one step too late, one move too slow. I _could've_ helped him, Granger. I could've prevented all of this trouble. But once again, I failed." He bit out through gritted teeth.

Hermione shook her head firmly. "You were too far away to do anything! It was Paul's choice to do what he did; you should be thankful that he sacrificed himself to let all the others live."

Draco turned jerkily and slammed the door shut. His voice was harsh but Hermione could hear the undercurrent fragility in it.

"You _don't understand!" _he yelled at Hermione, his deep voice ringing in the small room. "Do you not grasp the fact that _I am the captain_ and I am responsible for my crew's safety? That… that should have been _me,_ protecting the ship, _me, _taking the blow, not _Paul!_ Paul has a family, a wife and children in England! I, I have _no one!"_

Hermione shook her head, unperturbed by Draco's outburst. They were rather common, after all. "Draco, if you died, who would steer the ship? Who would give orders? Who would take control? What would the use be of you dying if everything would just spiral back into chaos once you were gone?" she said gently. "This wasn't your fault. Paul was just doing what he thought was right."

Draco was working himself into a fine rage. He must've been harboring this fury with himself inside since Paul had gotten injured, and only now he was letting it spew out. He grabbed the table that was between him and Hermione and with a heave of his arms sent it crashing into the wall of the circular room, sending papers flying. His eyes were glittering dangerously.

"It doesn't matter _what he thought was right!"_ Draco hissed, subconsciously moving closer to Hermione with each word. "The fact is that I AM THE CAPTAIN, but once again I failed to perform my duty! I let someone do the job _I was intended to do,_ and once again let the only people who are close to me get _hurt!" _

Hermione had a sinking feeling that this went far deeper than just this incident, and her heart went out to the frustrated boy. However, the glittering look in his eyes was still slightly scary, and Hermione felt herself take a few steps back from his encroaching form.

She found her back pressed against the bookshelf behind her, but Draco wasn't stopping. He kept taking steps forward, one by one, until they were, once again, inches apart.

"Finally can't think of anything to contradict me with?" Draco whispered, looking down into Hermione's eyes.

There was an inch of space between their bodies, but it was quickly flattened as Draco took the last step forward, trapping Hermione firmly against the bookshelf with his body.

Hermione felt a swooping sensation in her gut as Draco slid one of his legs between hers. His palms were pressed on either side of Hermione's face, effectively caging her in.

"It's still not your fault," Hermione said stubbornly. "You did all that you could've done! You were steering the ship; you can't do _everything!" _

Malfoy's mesmerizing eyes narrowed. "Stop protecting me, Granger. I'm not the good guy. I'm not the hero. I was not born to be."

He pushed their bodies closer together, lowering his face a fraction closer to hers.

"What… what are you doing?" Hermione whispered, her eyes flicking between Draco's lips and his stormy eyes. The swooping sensation was growing more pronounced and no matter how hard Hermione tried to force it down, the feeling would not go away and her heart was beating faster than it had in years.

Draco's features were unreadable as a mix of conflicting emotions played through his icy eyes. "I don't know."

Hermione licked her dry lips, and Draco snapped. He lost all self-control and Hermione's stomach dropped as she found Draco Malfoy's lips crashing down upon hers.

***

**Notes**: I'm terrible at explaining things, so I apologize if it's a bit hard to understand what's going on in this chapter, along with the whole anti-climatic kraken. I wanted to make it more, you know, exciting and scary, but I've never been good with that kind of thing, lol. Also, the whole poison-removal thing didn't really get as intimate as I planned – but I mean, he is sucking her _blood._ That's kind of gross and I know _I_ wouldn't be turned on. Anyways, I must say this isn't one of my better chapters but I did manage to squeeze some Dramione in the end, didn't I? Hope you still like it though.

**Reviews**

**Tyrande Whisperwind: **That means so much to me :D I'm glad I could convert you into a pirate-lover, or at least I hope I'm getting there, hahah. Aw thanks, and I hope this chapter is up to your standards as well (:

**Aerde:** I get what you mean; I have a love-hate relationship with all my chapters. After I publish them, I always think that I could change something but it's too late! And thank you for loving this story (: and don't worry, there will be many more chapters to come. Thank you!

**.Poisoned Scarlet.: **Ahh yes Hermione does need to pick up her game doesn't she? Don't worry, you'll see the tough side of Hermione soon :) thank you for the review!

**Keke Koorime: **They're stubborn people! And here's another chapter that's hopefully longer than the last one, to make up for my super slow update (my apologies). Thank you (:

**Mjvegas: **Thank you thank you :D

**Irisheart8: **I'm trying to get her to act god dammit normal but it just don't know how! I'm afraid I'm making her have a completely different personality just for the story, but I'll definitely try to work on that. Thanks for the review (:

**In Dreams: **Lol yes, silly Hermione ;) I felt like it would be easier for Hermione to feel at home with a nice crew. But it might just be because I've always wanted to meet a bunch of nice pirates ):

**BroadwayNightOwl: **Thank you! And I hope this chapter suffices. I read this one fanfiction the other day where each chapter is like, 20 pages. I'll definitely need to work on lengthening my chapters :P

**JC1988: **I laughed when I read your comment ^^ - stole the words straight outta my mouth.

**Lya Darkfury: **Sweetest review (: thank you thank you. I try to not just dive into the romance, because these things _do_ need to build up. I'm afraid I'm moved a bit too fast in this chapter but hey, the tension _is _pretty thick and they do have history! :D

**Jade2009: **I need Hermione to be able to do _something _while she's on the ship! And ahh, my bad about the legillimancy and occulmency mess-up! I'm wasn't sure about how I wanted the poison-removal to end, but I don't feel like tweaking this chapter anymore… so I apologize if it wasn't how you thought it would be.

**IGOTEAMEDWARD: **Everyone wants an inner personality :D and yes, I _do_ want Draco getting jealous of the crew. Thank you for the lovely review.

**Cat18: **Anything can happen in dreams, that's why I love writing about them ;D thank you so much!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: JK ROWLING.

A/N: Ahh, what can I say? I've been busy, you know, the usual excuses ): but I made this chapter extra-long, it's 24 pages (: and I hope you like it! And again, sorry. For being so late ):

***

The Extremely Late Chapter Eight

"_What… what are you doing?" Hermione whispered, her eyes flicking between Draco's lips and his stormy eyes. The swooping sensation was growing more pronounced and no matter how hard Hermione tried to force it down, the feeling would not go away and her heart was beating faster than it had in years. _

_Draco's features were unreadable as a mix of conflicting emotions played through his icy eyes. "I don't know." _

_Hermione licked her dry lips, and Draco snapped. He lost all self-control and Hermione's stomach dropped as she found Draco Malfoy's lips crashing down upon hers. _

***

Hermione's stomach erupted. Butterflies and emotions Hermione had thought she had long forgotten burst to the surface and enveloped her. Draco's lips were firm and soft and gentle; it was perfect and Hermione's breath was stolen straight from her lungs.

One of Draco's hands left the bookshelf and cupped Hermione's cheek gently and tenderly. Hermione sank in the touch, her lips still moving soundlessly against Draco's. Her hands reached up and clutched Draco's shirt; her legs were turning too mush and she needed something to cling on to.

Draco's other arm slipped around Hermione's waist and drew her closer to him. Her lips slightly parted under his passionate touch and he swept her bottom lip with his tongue, seeking access. She immediately granted it and their tongues swept around each other. Hermione's whole body felt like it was on fire, almost the same feeling she had when she had been poisoned, but much, much better. This fire was a slow, heated burning that was coiling in her stomach and flowing through her veins and blocking her more rational thoughts.

The kiss grew hungrier and more heated, as if they were both slowly realizing _who_ they were kissing and didn't know what else to do. If they stopped, reality would crash back down with a brutal slap on the face, and everything would go wrong.

They battled for dominance, tongues sweeping against each other, lips hungry and seeking. Hermione was letting out little mewls of pleasure, which were just driving Draco crazier and crazier. Her hands snuck around his neck and played with his long blond locks. His hand had trailed down her body, sliding against the side of her breast and her stomach as it came to a halt on her hip. His fingers slid inside her shirt but did not venture any further; they played with the waistband of her slacks and drew light patterns on the skin of her waist.

They broke it off for a second to gasp in air, chests heaving and faces flushed. Draco rested his forehead against Hermione's in an unusual display of affection, his eyes closed and a ghost of a flush across his pale skin.

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Her hands were still curled around his neck and his fingers were still playing with the waistband of her slacks. What had she done? Everything felt so _right, _so natural, so perfect. Time slowed down for both of them and nothing seemed as important as the person across from them – Paul's injury, Draco's past, and Hermione's present all faded into a blur of memories that were pushed to the back of their minds. Nothing was important.

Hermione opened her eyes to see Draco's thrilling eyes boring into her own. They were a beautiful, stormy gray and they seemed endless. Once again, Hermione couldn't read the emotions in them.

They stayed in that position for an infinite amount of time, just looking at one another, unsure of what to do. Where would this bring them? What would happen? Hermione's eyes were just fluttering closed and she was just tilting her head up for another breathtaking kiss when a loud bang signaled the door being slammed open.

Draco seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and threw himself from Hermione immediately, who stumbled back against the bookshelf. She looked like she had just been thoroughly snogged – her hair was messy, her lips were swollen, and she had that dazed, unsure look in her clouded eyes.

Draco turned to the door, where a tall and silent Jassim was standing, his face carefully emotionless. Draco cleared his throat unnecessarily and straightened his rumpled shirt.

"What?" He snapped at Jassim.

"Sir, Parker Island Port is several hours away. A dockworker has told us there is a space at the port to dock the boat, and an apparation site on shore."

Draco nodded, clearing his throat again.

"Thank you Jassim. You… thank you." He swept out of the room without sparing a glance backwards.

Jassim shot Hermione one, unreadable look before leaving the room as well, closing the door behind him gently.

***  
Hermione sank to the floor of the small study, her legs giving way. Her fingers touched the lips that had just been so passionately assaulted by Draco, and her eyes stared into space.

_What… why…_

She was speechless. Hermione couldn't believe what she had just done – she had _kissed _Draco Malfoy. _Draco Malfoy._ Did that actually happen? Had that actually happened? She ran a shaky hand through her messy hair.

It had felt so right – they fit together like puzzle pieces, like someone had made them into corresponding shapes. The way his body had wrapped around hers was so possessive and so fierce that it had melted Hermione's heart straight through her ribcage.

_What are we going to do now?_

Hermione was lost in her emotions. What _were_ they going to do? What did the kiss mean? What had Draco been thinking when he instigated it? Was it all a mistake?

_Was it a mistake?_

Hermione didn't know how long she stayed in that position, her arms wrapped around her knees, sitting on the hard wooden floor. She didn't know what to think anymore; she did not know what to think of _Draco_ anymore. Hermione couldn't deny she felt a pang when she thought of the way his lips had caressed hers, but that didn't _mean_ anything, did it?

She hadn't prepared for this. She hadn't been ready, and she hadn't expected it. No books explained the rush of emotions she was feeling, and no amount of studying would tell her how to deal with this unfamiliar feeling coursing through her veins.

She lowered her head onto her knees, groaning in frustration. _I wish I had never gotten stuck on this stupid ship._

She didn't know how many minutes passed before she fell asleep in that position, curled up on the floor of the study.

She was out cold for the entire night, dreaming restless dreams of handsome captains and evil monsters. She didn't even notice when Frank came in with a sad expression on his face and wrapped her in a blanket.

***

Draco slammed the door of his room and let out a roar. He was so bloody _angry,_ so fucking frustrated at the stupid girl who had taken over his thoughts, who had crept into his mind like the fucking plague.

He tore around his room angrily, throwing pillows and vases and anything he could find. He upturned one of his bedside tables, sending parchment and books flying, scattering across the expensive floor. He only stopped after he had nearly knocked over the bubbling potion; the thought of Paul, injured, sobered his angry mind quickly.

He surveyed the destruction he had caused his room with savage satisfaction. At least some of his anger had dissipated, although a large portion of it still resided heavily in his mind. Anger at the little witch, the little brunette who was able to crawl under his skin so very well.

He couldn't believe that he had kissed her, but if given the choice, Draco knew he would not trade the memory for the world. She had tasted like everything he had ever wanted. She tasted like desire and the promise of something better.

Draco slammed a fist into the wall with astounding force. He heard his knuckles pop and felt a lacing pain up his arm, but he honestly couldn't care less at the moment. Draco leant heavily against the wall, not removing his fist from its angry position.

What had he _done?_ They had been so _close_ to Parker Island; he had been so close to getting the brown haired girl out of his system. He gave a low grunt of anger.

Oh, god. If his father could see him now – getting all worked up over a stupid girl. The Malfoy's were _supposed_ to be great seducers; the Malfoy men had women draped over them all the _time._ Yes, his father had settled down, but that was only because it had been an arranged marriage. Yes, Draco loved his father and his mother – but that didn't mean that they loved each other.

And not only was Draco getting worked up over a fucking _girl,_ he was getting worked up over a _mudblood._ Yes, Draco tried not to use that term anymore… but _really_. Why, of all people? Girls had come and stayed on the ship far longer than she had, and he hadn't felt this way about them. He hadn't felt the urge to protect them, to kiss them gently. He didn't want to hold them in his arms. He did not see their faces in his mind's eye whenever he closed his eyes.

He had just fucked them repeatedly.

And not one of them had been a muggle or a muggle-born – every little port had at least a few witches or wizards, and he had found at _least_ a half-blood, although he preferred the pure-bloods. Draco tried to tell himself that blood status didn't matter anymore, but he had been brought up that way and it was hard to knock it out of his system.

But there was nothing muddy about _her _lips and the way they were molded to fit his; nothing muddy at all about the way their tongues danced. Nothing muddy at all about the way she tasted like the sunrise.

Draco pushed away from the wall, and he hissed in pain. His knuckles were red and bloody, and he could see some white underneath the torn skin.

He pinched his nose, controlling his breathing and trying to quell the giant headache that was raging in mind. He swiftly healed his aching hand with an easy spell and cleaned up his room as best as he could.

Draco left his room, slamming the door behind him, a calm mask gracing his features despite the internal war he was raging.

He stood proud behind the wheel of the ship for god knows how long. The wind whipping at his face managed to clear most his unwanted thoughts, but the one he didn't want the most was still circling around his mind.

Hermione Granger.

***

Hermione awoke, squinting her eyes against the sunlight that was slipping under the crack of the doorway.

_Where am I? _

Hermione was looked around in confusion for a minute before the memories crashed down around her. The kraken, Draco and her fighting, and then the kiss. Her lips tingled just from the memory, and an unfamiliar but not unwanted pang shot through her heart.

_Stop. Stop thinking about him._

Hermione gingerly left the small study and had gasped at the sight that met her eyes; the port was coming closer every second and the ship had already started slowing down. Kyle, who was carefully but quickly lowering the sails with his wand, went to stand by her.

"We've been to Parker Island many times before," Kyle hollered over the sounds of the wind and the sails furling. "It's a great place, sells anything!"

Hermione nodded, looking out over the cerulean waves. There were hundreds of ships of all sizes docked to long, wooden piers, or just floating in the gently swelling waves. The long wooden piers connected to a large island rising from the ocean.

"How big is it?" Hermione called to Kyle.

After he finished furling the sails, he explained everything that had to do with Parker Island.

Parker Island was a large, flat island that sloped into a volcano somewhere in the middle. The volcano took up two thirds of the mainland, so the town was more of a coastal town, with houses and shops dotting the shoreline. The port was large because it was a main trading port and most of the town's inhabitants fished or did something sea-related for a living. The town center was just a mile from the coast, and it was made up of short, squat shops and stores, looking quite like Hogsmeade.

The boat lurched to a stop suddenly, and Hermione rocked forward on her feet before regaining her balance. Through the yells and shouts of the crewmembers, Hermione deciphered that they had put a stopping spell on the boat so it was rooted firmly in spot without needing to lower an anchor or anything.

_The perks of being magic,_ Hermione thought dryly.

However, her heart stopped when Draco's voice rang over the deck.

"Everybody, here!" he called firmly, his voice commanding and business-like.

Kyle bounced to his feet eagerly, pulling Hermione's towards the voice. The rest of the crew had also circled around Draco, awaiting his orders.

"We've been to Parker Island before, and our stay was perfectly fine. There should be no reason that this should change. We are here as guests, so act like one. There will be _no _raping, killing, or destruction in this town. There is nobody here that is a threat, for now. There _is_ a bar downtown and I expect most of you will end up there, however, you are free to roam around the city. Eat wherever you like, and don't expect the ship to have food when you come back, but _try _to come back unless you'd like to stay at an inn."

Draco commanded such a powerful aura that Hermione at once knew that no one would dare disobey his orders.

"You may leave now, but I would like Miss Granger, Kyle, Patrick and Thomas to stay for a few moments."

Hermione's stomach clenched as he said her name, while the sound of apparation filled the air with cracks and pops.

Draco looked at all three men, but mysteriously passed over Hermione. "Patrick and Thomas, I want you to alert the Mayor of the town – who is it? Stiltson, I believe – and inform him that I will be holding a ball for all the magical inhabitants of the village; most of them should be witches and wizards, after all."

Pat and Thomas nodded and apparated out of sight quickly, leaving Hermione, Kyle and Draco alone. Draco locked eyes with Hermione, and Hermione was surprised to see no ounce of emotion in them, _nothing._ Like a cold, blank mask had wiped over them. No affection, not even _hate_, just… just plain, cold indifference. Like what had happened last night hadn't affected him at all. Like he had just forgotten all about it.

Hermione's chest tightened in hurt. She had expected a reaction from him, at least a flicker of something that told her that he had felt it too. She wouldn't even have minded if he had treated it like he had done the wrong thing; at least he would apologize and admit that he _had_ kissed her in the first place. Her eyes narrowed. Two could play this game.

"Pleasant night last night, Malfoy?" she asked sweetly, looking up at him from under her eyelashes innocently.

He turned to her without any emotion. "Not quite, Miss Granger. You see… I got in a bit of _dirt, _to put it lightly."

Hermione had half expected an answer such as that, but as it slipped past Malfoy's lips, she felt her heart freeze over and drop somewhere in her stomach. Her throat suddenly tightened. Why?

What had she expected? That he would lift her into her arms and swing her around?

_You forgot whom you're dealing with. _

Had she believed, for one second, that he would actually change? That he was different from his Hogwarts days? That she, little muggle-born Granger, could have any effect on the handsome, powerful pure-blood Draco Malfoy?

Though it hurt her to think it, the answer was obvious.

_Yes._

From the moment he had began to yell at her, Hermione thought that she could help him, that she could make him feel... _different_. She believed that she could change him, make him give up his way of life. If he just _accepted_ her… if he just thought of her as his equal, someone he could trust and possibly grow fond of… But obviously not.

He was going to act like a complete arsehole about it, about everything. He was going to pretend it never happened. Why?

_Because, _she told herself, _the kiss was a mistake. He lost his head for a moment. He just needed some way to get the emotion out_.

Kyle butted in, his voice happy and oblivious. "What do ya mean, Drakes? We're on a ship, you little fucker, you can't get dirty!"

Draco's eyes narrowed in response to Hermione's suddenly expressionless face, and he completely ignored Kyle's useless question.

"Kyle, I want you to escort Hermione around town. Make sure she doesn't stick her nose into anybody's business and kept her out of-" he paused. "Keep her away from any means of escape."

Hermione nodded and sighed heavily, although inside she was hurting. He thought she was a _baby._ A stupid, useless little _baby! _God, she wanted to punch him right in the gut so badly; or maybe kiss him. She checked her anger though, and giving Draco a tight-lipped smile, she grabbed Kyle's arm and apparated to shore, ignoring the wrench of pain in her stomach.

***

Hermione was angry for about five minutes before the sight of the coastal town and Kyle's constant, happy jabbering got the better of her and she found herself smiling at the gorgeous sight. The air was crisp and cool and the sun was hidden gently behind puffy white clouds.

Kyle told her stories of the first time he had ever ventured to the small town, and he explained to her what each shop sold as they walked by it.

"Anything you want, Hermione?" Kyle asked. "Drakes gave me some money to give you! He told me to tell you that the money's from me_,_ not him, but I like being _honest, _you know._"_

Hermione couldn't deny the small smile that graced her features. A flicker of hope licked at her heart. Maybe somewhere, deep down, Draco was concerned for her? Just maybe. She tried to squash the thought, but it kept popping up.

_Forget about him, Hermione! _

But she couldn't.

Hermione couldn't help asking about the ball, and Kyle quickly filled her in on all the details that Frank had missed out when he first explained to her what they were.

"Oh, the balls are _fabulous!" _Kyle gushed, quite femininely, as they browsed around an old bookstore. "Women come from all around town in their best dresses and these beautiful masks. It's almost always a masquerade ball, why, I'm not really sure. Anyways, the men are all dressed in these fancy tuxedos and _I_ even wear one! We dance for most of the night and Drakey charms these instruments to play some really nice music. It's really relaxed, and then at one everyone leaves except the woman who Drakes chooses to keep with him on the boat for the next couple weeks before we reach the next port, where he lets them go." He sucked in a deep breath after saying everything in a whoosh.

Hermione's hand paused over a cracking leather spine. She had forgotten that Draco's "type" were blonde bimbos. Her heart sank a little bit. Would he choose a girl at the ball? Would there be another girl staying on the ship with them? Hermione had a sudden image of them dancing; he would be holding her waist and her arms would be wrapped around his neck and they would be twirling and…

_Stop it stop it stop it! _

Draco probably knew how he affected the other sex; he was _used_ to have girls fawn and fall all over him. What was he trying to pull with Hermione? He was pulling her in two different directions; Hermione would think that he liked her and then _bang,_ he'd turn the complete other cheek and act like she was simply a bug on his shoe. What if this was all a plan?

All these 'maybes' and 'what if's' passed through Hermione's mind in a sudden jumble. She had never explored these reasons before. Her heart began to lace with doubt and she bit her lip anxiously.

_Well, _inner-Hermione thought, _I'll just have to keep my distance. I'll just have to _not_ fall for the charm of Draco Malfoy. I can do that. I can resist his stupid charms… can't I?_

"You can go somewhere else, if you'd like, Kyle?" Hermione told Kyle gently. "I'll catch up with you soon, I just want to go through these books for a little bit more."

Kyle, who was looking _extremely _bored, perked up instantly. "I'll be in the candy shop just down the street and around the corner! I'll apparate back every hour just to check on you, okay?"

Hermione smiled and nodded at Kyle's eagerness to go to the candy shop. He was such a _boy!_ "That sounds fine, Kyle. I'll be right here."

Kyle all but sprinted out of the glass door of the bookshop, the door jingling as he tore through. Hermione smiled at the boy running down the street. She was growing rather fond of Kyle; he was a nice kid and he seemed to have a good heart. A little old woman cleared her throat behind Hermione, catching her attention.

"Would you like some help, dear? Perhaps a certain book I could help you look for, eh?" the woman smiled kindly.

She was a squat old thing, with wire-rimmed glasses and hair as white as snow. Her eyes, however, were gentle and sweet and reminded her all too much of Molly Weasley's motherly eyes.

"Actually, I'd like a book on… on sea creatures, if you have one?" Hermione asked.

The old woman smiled. "Of _course, _dear! This bookshop has _everything._"

She pulled out something from her long flowery skirt, and a book launched itself fro one of the higher shelves directly above Hermione's head, showering her with dust. So the old woman was a witch, then?

The woman smiled at Hermione, as if reading her thoughts. "Yes, I'm a witch, dear. You can call me Renee."

Hermione smiled back and wandered to a table in the shop, where she sat down. Sunlight filtered from a high, dusty window, illuminating the very spot Hermione chose to sit and read in. It was perfect.

Hermione soon lost herself in the pages of the book; it was an old, classic folktale about an admirable wizard called Ropell Garslov, who sailed to the world's end to fight the mighty and feared kraken. It was old and the pages were brittle, but the words were rich and lush.

Garslov was a captain of a ship, and one day he found a beautiful, strange girl floating on a piece of wood. He took her aboard her ship and nursed her back to health, finding out her name was Marianne and she claimed she did not remember anything. She was a beauty, with sea green eyes and flowing blue hair. He fell in love with her, and they lived happily aboard his ship for a few years until Garslov decided to buy a house and live on land for the remainder of his years. Marianne protested and was very reluctant to leave the sea, for some reason.

Once Marianne's foot touched dry land, the waves began to boil and shiver and a huge wave came and swallowed Marianne, pulling her back into the ocean. Garslov's heart was broken and he vowed to take revenge on whatever beast had captured Marianne. One night, Garslov found a letter on his windowsill. It explained how Marianne had been captured and held hostage by the kraken since she was a little girl and was the kraken's property. She had put the kraken to sleep somehow and swam away, where Garslov had found her. However, the kraken was awoken when she stepped on dry land once again and reclaimed Marianne. She went on to tell him that she loved him with all her heart, but they could never be together, and that Garslov should _never_ try to find her unless he wished to die.

Garslov, being the hot-headed wizard he was, immediately set off to find and kill the kraken. He sailed to the end of the world to find Marianne and when the kraken attacked, him and his crew used extraordinary spells and magic to slice off all of the kraken's tentacles as they reached up to crush his ship. The kraken reared up out of the water and Garslov, using a handy levitation spell, broke off the ship's mast and shoved it into the beast's mouth and tore it out again, successfully killing the monster.

The kraken shrunk and shrunk and when Garslov looked over the edge of his ship, he found not the kraken's carcass but the body of his love, Marianne, floating in the water, fatally wounded. He quickly pulled her aboard the ship, and noticed that her sea-green eyes were clouded with death and the long, blue locks of hair he admired so greatly had been hacked off, with red staining the tips like blood. Marianne explained that she _was_ the kraken; a sea-goddess had cast a spell on her for being more beautiful than her and had turned her into the beast. However, when she first spotted Garslov, standing captain aboard his ship, she fell in love and the spell was broken for the time being, until she touched dry land, where the sea reclaimed her as its own.

Garslov held Marianne in his arms as she told him that he was the only mortal man that she had ever loved, and that he would forever be remembered for defeating the mighty kraken. Marianna breathed in her last breath, and as she died, her hair slowly turned back into its original colour, before the sea-goddess changed her, which was a beautiful, rich brown, and her skin changed from its waxy pallor to a beautiful, tanned bronze.

Garslov was so sad that he threw himself overboard, and the two tragic lovers died in their arms, sinking in the ocean they both called home.

Hermione's eyes were pouring and she was stifling her sobs by the time she finished the book. It had been so _touching_ and so _beautiful_. The best part of the book was that it had been written by a muggle! He had no idea that real wizards actually existed, but he had managed to somehow think of this beautiful plot line. The book had been such a hit with the wizarding world they quickly decided that Garslov would definitely become a well-known wizard, even though he had been thought up by a muggle. Hermione loved _and _hated this tale because it had been the first, but last time a muggle's work was recognized in the wizarding world.

Hermione pondered over the features of the book. What if the kraken _was_ actually a girl? Or less straight-forward as that, but a misunderstood beast? She felt slightly like Hagrid, trying to protect the creature, but frowned when she remembered how it had brutally attacked the ship. A misunderstood monster wouldn't have an army of inferi at its beck and call, would it? Nor would it set said inferi upon the crew… Hermione lost herself in thought, staring out the window, her fingers lightly drumming the table.

As much as the kraken interested her, another, more important aspect of the story kept swimming around in her mind. Garslov and Marianne's love – the love they had for each other had no bounds. Marianne had been affected by love so greatly that she had changed forms, and Garslov had loved Marianne so much that he had risked everything to get her back. Everything.

Would anybody do that for Hermione? Would she ever find anyone who would risk _everything_ to be with her? She sighed miserably. How one person could be so unlucky in love, she had no idea. Hermione didn't enjoy pining over things she didn't have, but this had bothered her since Ron had dumped her. She had truly thought that they were going to eventually have gotten married – _that_ turned out well.

_Crack._

An unsteady Kyle suddenly apparated in front of her, looking dazed and wobbly.

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and jumped up, catching him as he teetered ominously. "Kyle! Where have you been? You promised you'd check on me every hour and it's been almost three! It's past noon!"

Kyle looked at her with slightly unfocused eyes. It didn't take a genius to tell that Kyle had been drinking – he also smelled like it. When he spoke, the smell of alcohol overwhelmed Hermione and she had to lean back slightly.

"S-sorry, Herms," Kyle slurred. "Gotsa bit distracted!"

Hermione frowned. "I can see."

Kyle slumped against Hermione. "Met up with Pat, Tom and Drakey.. Some nice stuff… in that.. candy…"

Hermione groaned. Which candy shop sold alcohol? Kyle collapsed onto the wooden table, snoring loudly and his mouth wide open. He was out cold, and was barley past noon. Who drank this early anyways?

Hermione patted Kyle gently on the back, raising her head and meeting the eyes of the old woman apologetically. The kind lady smiled back, shaking her head, and approached Hermione and the sleeping form.

"Don't worry dear, you keep this little fellow here with me," the woman smiled kindly. "I'll wake him up in a few minutes."

Hermione smiled gratefully. "Thank you _so_ much, ma'am! I'll only be a second!"

The woman shook her head once more in amusement as Hermione darted out the glass door of the shop.

***

The strong scent of the sea hit her nose almost as soon as Hermione stepped out of the small bookshelf. She could hear the sea in the distance, crashing against the shore, and she could hear the chirp of seagulls over the bustling street.

People, wizards and muggles alike, were jostling through the crowded street, yelling and shouting and stepping into shops. It was the liveliest street Hermione had been on since Diagon Alley, and she didn't remember the last time she had stepped _there._ People greeted each other in small stores set up on the cobblestone paths, and more expensive shops sat in the buildings that signaled the sides of the streets, although none of them reached over two stories high.

Hermione tried to remember what Kyle had told her about the directions to the candy shop – down the street and to the left or the right? She had been rather interested in starting to read, and she hadn't really been listening…

Hermione was jostled to the side by a particularly large man, and found herself in a small, shady alleyway that branched in-between two shops. The end of the little alleyway was blocked with a pile of rubble, ash and wood, and there was one big trashcan near the end of the alleyway. Trash littered the slightly damp cobblestone street; it was probably were everybody threw their garbage.

Hermione felt cut off from the rest of the world where she was standing; people simply walked past the sad little alleyway and the sounds of the street seemed to blend into the background. It was sunny, so it wasn't scary in the least. She turned and walked out of it, looking back once more.

She slipped back into the moving crowd. She carried on walking for a few more minutes, enjoying the small town's personality and soaking in the different shops and the smell of the ocean and fish. It felt good to be back on firm ground; although she had gotten used to the constant swell of the ship, after she had seen the kraken memory, she liked when she knew that nothing massive could be lurking underneath her feet.

The candy shop was a quaint little shop nestled between two empty-looking wooden buildings, where it stood out due to its odd colouring – it was painted a bright, fluorescent pink. There were a few scattered pink tables outside, but nobody was sitting there. Through two large glass panes that made up the front of the shop, Hermione could see an old, motherly woman ringing up a little girl's candy bag at the register.

It was slightly odd how the girl's mother was not there, or how both of the old woman and the little girl's faces were oddly blank, as if drawn without emotion. Oddly enough, the scene kept repeating as well; the little girl never seemed to actually _buy_ the bag of candy and walk out of the shop. Come to think about it, there weren't even any other customers Hermione could see through the windows. She hesitated slightly, wanting to go in and get Draco and the rest, but she didn't really want to see Draco at the moment, did she? And the shop was giving her the chills for some reason…

Ten minutes of pacing later, Hermione knew there was something _very_ off about this "candy shop" – the old woman was _still_ ringing up the little girl's bag of candy and although they were moving, they would be completely still for a few seconds and then suddenly to a jerking movement, as if they had fallen asleep and woken up suddenly.

Hermione stepped closer to the glass, feeling nervous yet irritated at the same time. She wasn't too scared – people, although there were only a few, were still strolling by her and the odd little candy shop. She pressed her face up to the glass pane, expecting to see the woman and the girl inside. They were there, yet at the same time they _weren't –_ it was an odd sight, and Hermione could see hazy figures moving behind the little girl and the old woman, as if someone had pasted two pictures together and made the top picture half see-through.

Pressing her ear to the glass, Hermione could hear a faint, pulsing beat. This was… this couldn't be… The reason why Kyle had smelt like a bar…? She reached for her wand before realizing that a muggle could be walking behind her and they would clearly see her performing magic. The ministry would be informed of magic being performed in front of a muggle and they would be upon them in minutes – Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she lifted her head away from the strange glass.

If the ministry was informed and they reached the port, Hermione could be rescued; she would tell them what had happened and they could take her away before the crew knew and she could have Snape remove the curse that Draco had put upon her and Ben; Snape had always been excellent with the Dark Arts. The crew were all busy and Kyle was inside the strange shop when he was supposed to be with her… She could hand in the notorious pirate ship at the same time, too, and she would be regarded with more praise than she could imagine, for leading the ministry straight to the ship they had been trying to capture for a long time now.

Her mind involuntarily flickered to a picture of Draco, standing proud, handsome and tall. Would he go down without a fight? Why did she feel a pang when she thought of him being overpowered by Aurors, forced to his knees? Would the ministry officials send for backup? The picture changed to one of Kyle and Sandy; they were so young, too young to be captured and forced to spend the rest of their lives in imprisonment.

Or she could try apparating; that would obviously be the easiest option – could she apparate across country borders, though? She had never tried that before – would it affect her apparation? Would she splinch? It was too risky to try it. However, she could always apparate a few miles, and continue apparating like that.

She felt a pang in her lower stomach and frowned. Apparating was out of the question for now; her stomach would not be able to take the usual tug and could possibly be dangerous. Hermione was just pulling out her wand, ready to cast a patronus at the next muggle who walked by, when a thought struck her that rendered her numb.

Did Hermione actually _want_ to leave the ship? She remembered how happy she had been talking with the cook, Sandy and Kyle, and she remembered the injured Paul, lying on his deathbed. Draco had said that Paul had a wife and children too; how would they feel if he died? She gnawed at her lower lip, leaning against the glass and completely forgetting about the shop behind her.

She was having an internal struggle. Hermione wanted to go home, yes, achingly badly, but hadn't she just spent the last five months wishing for an adventure that didn't have anything to do with killing or death? And she had made a promise to herself, that she would help Paul and heal him. Hermione didn't like going back on her word, but she ached to see Maylline and Harry and, although grudgingly she admit it, she missed Ron a bit as well.

_But you wouldn't see them anyways, _she reminded herself. _You're on your sabbatical, remember? You wanted to get away from everything, didn't you? No more public events or publicity… just wanted to lay low for a while…_

Hermione breathed out harshly, picturing Paul and Kyle and Sandy.

_I'll stay for them. Not for Draco. Draco has nothing to do with my decision. _

She couldn't completely quash the thought that she had decided to stay for _just _Paul; a blond-haired somebody kept popping up in her list of reasons for not leaving. It would do no good to think about him since he obviously despised her… Groaning out loud, she tried not to remember the way they had kissed earlier.

Hermione turned, wanting very desperately to get away from the thoughts tumbling in her mind that consisted of her and Draco. Without a second thought, she pulled open the door of the odd candy shop. All she could see was darkness; everything was suddenly silent, like a giant muffler had been put over her ears. She felt the most peculiar sensation in her legs, like she was being dragged forward by her ankles. By the time she realized that she was being summoned by a complex bit of spellwork, Hermione had been dragged into the shop by an unseen force and the door slammed behind her.

The feeling she had on her ankles was slowly rising up her body, like she was being pulled in all different directions in the darkness. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation; it was rather tickling and Hermione knew that she wouldn't be harmed. However, she still reached around to grab her wand and get her some light.

The instant her fingers closed upon the wand handle, Hermione found herself lying in a heap on a dusty wooden floor, and harsh, glaring lights were blinding her.

"What-"

"Oh! A newbie!" an unfamiliar, female face swam into view, although it was hard to see while Hermione's eyes were adjusting to the harsh light.

She blinked a few times and pushed herself upright. When her vision finally completely returned, her eyes grew wide and she scrambled to her feet, looking around her and blushing.

She was in a small, long wooden changing room from what it looked like; there were seats facing mirrors and rows of costumes hanging off silver racks. This was not what took her off guard; it was the fact that five or six very scantily clad women surrounded her.

They all had huge breasts and extremely long legs. They were all dressed in the sluttiest school outfits that Hermione had ever seen; the blue pleated skirt barley covered half their asses and Hermione could easily see their black thongs. The white, buttoned shirts were tight, see through, buttoned down, and only came down to the undersite of their large boobs.

Hermione's mouth opened and then closed and then opened and closed once more; she was completely at a loss for words. Finally, she found her voice.

"What… who… where _am_ I?" she demanded, not knowing where to place her eyes – these women were everywhere!

A sexy, blonde woman who had the longest legs Hermione had ever seen stepped up to her, laughing. "You're in Exotic Candy, silly!"

A beautiful redheaded woman added in, "The most exclusive club on this island!"

Hermione chose not to point out that the island was tiny, and probably held only _one_ club, which meant being the most exclusive club wasn't the biggest feat in the world. She held her tongue as the girls continued to explain where, exactly, Hermione had turned up in.

"This club is _huge,_ love, people come from all over the world to see it! The dance we're doing today is called the Schoolgirl; we're being schoolgirls!" a gorgeous, dark skinned beauty said.

"Our routine starts in about six minutes; the other girls are onstage right now doing some stupid mermaid dance or something. Once they finish, they go to do private dances, like lap dances and whatever the higher-paying men ask for."

Hermione stared, opened mouth, at the women and how easily they talked about being strippers and exotic dancers. So this was what Kyle was talking about when he said "candy shop". What a naughty boy… but this didn't explain why Hermione was _here?_

"Can I leave now?" Hermione asked nervously, scared of the answer. She reached behind her and clutched her wand, just in case.

A tall, sultry brunette swayed over to Hermione. "Of course she doesn't know! She's _brand new._ Well, dear, this is what happened. Every time a woman walks through the door, the door scans them and sees if they're fit for dancing. Then it sends them here, if it approves."

Hermione let out a nervous chuckle. "But doors can't – I don't – it wants me to _what?" _

The brunette laughed a low, sexy laugh. "Dance – just one or two dances! The boss put a really nice little spell on that door; it can also tell if you're too stuck up and need to just loosen up a bit!"

Hermione shook her head, bemused. How did she end up in these situations? It was absurd how she got herself into all these complicated circumstances. "Well, thank you for the offer but I'll just take my leave, thanks."

The redhead leaned to the blonde and whispered quite audibly, "She _does_ need to loosen up!"

The blonde laughed genuinely and slung a slender arm over Hermione's shoulder. "Okay listen, dear, the door doesn't do this usually! It's giving you a once-in-a-lifetime chance to just let everything out, you know?"

"No," Hermione scowled, trying to wriggle out of the woman's grasp. She wanted out.

The dark-skinned woman brought a cup of hot coffee to her, from somewhere. "Here, sweetie. Just have a drink and think over it,"

Hermione noticed the sly look in the pretty woman's eyes and glanced down at the black coffee. The steam rising from it smelt strongly of something familiar, something only an experienced potion-maker would know… Hermione's eyes narrowed and she put the cup down. They had spiked it. With _lust potion!_

Of all the… of all the stupid, irresponsible things to do! Lust potion was exceedingly hard to make and could turn disastrous if brewed incorrectly; there had been severe cases of people in wizarding hospitals precisely for that reason. Not only that, but lust potion was illegal if given to someone who didn't want it – did these females read _anything? _Did they know _anything_ about potions and the laws concerning them?!

Hermione scowled. Obviously not.

The dark skinned girl saw Hermione's look and seemed to shrink back guiltily. "Okay, you caught me, I _did _put something that drink." She didn't seem sorry in the least, just a tiny bit sheepish.

The blonde haired one sighed, removing her arm from Hermione's shoulders. "Listen, babe, you're _so_ tense. You need to loosen up a bit! You know, go out and have fun. There's got to be _someone_ in this club that'll catch your eye. You don't have to dance, but at least you can strike up a conversation, yeah?"

Hermione's scowl deepened. She didn't feel like explaining to these girls who, exactly, she was – she didn't need the publicity and she didn't want to seem like she was boasting. But she didn't think that they realized that she still had her wand and could stun all of them if she _really _wanted to.

"Okay, fine," Hermione sighed. "Let me out of this bloody room and I'll find a man to strike up a conversation with."

They all laughed and gave her reassuring pats on the back; Hermione couldn't help a small smile form on her face. How could _anybody_ be happy with a job like this? Being a stripper, being an exotic dancer… being felt up by men all the time and the only way you received money was by dirty fingers pushing the bills into your skimpy clothing? How could anybody _enjoy_ that?

Hermione sighed as they led her out the door, being swallowed by darkness again. A cool hand was guiding her, however, and the music was growing steadily louder. They'd be out in the open soon, and Hermione could slip out.

She suddenly remembered why she had gone to the candy shop in the first place, to find someone to help Kyle. She groaned mentally. Who could she find? Kyle had said that he had met up with three people, but the only name that had registered in her mind was 'Draco'.

So she had no choice to find Draco. In a sweaty, disgusting, bar. Full of horny men and half-dressed females.

What a blast.

***

Hermione gingerly picked her way through the mobbing crowd. They were around a stage at the end of the bar, where the six women she had met were dancing provocatively to cat-calls and wolf whistles. The lights were dim and the music was a heavy, pounding, pulsing beat that was exploding through Hermione's head. She could use her wand, but what if there were muggles in the club? She was too paranoid about getting caught doing magic in front of muggles for her own good.

When she finally got out of the jostling crowd, after getting several butt-slaps and cheeky leers, she found herself mentally and physically exhausted. Further past the crowd were booths, were groups of men sat and watched the dancers dance. They were round booths, were leather tables and cushioned seats, and from what Hermione could see, all the men seemed to be higher class – they were wearing suits or just as fancy clothes, and sipping fancy cocktails.

Women wearing blue, sparkly miniskirts, high green booths and sea-shell bikinis were serving them; this is what the other blonde haired woman had meant costume-wise when she said 'mermaid dance'. Hermione scanned the darkness. Where the _hell_ was Draco? She wanted to find him and get out of this smoky club – it was an awkward place and she wasn't comfortable in the least.

Would _accio _work? She had never tried it on a person – and there couldn't be _that many _muggles in the club, could there? Plus, they wouldn't be able to see anything, could they? She glanced back at the stage and saw the women grinding against poles and shivered. What if she had drank that coffee? Would she be up there, dancing like a slut? Would she be shimmying and getting men to stuff bills in her bra?

A hand grasped her arm and she looked down in surprise. She had strayed too close to a booth and a man whose features she could barley distinguish in the dark was gripping her arm hard, leering. There were, as far as she could tell, three other men sitting in the round booth with him, all staring at her with interest.

"Why are you wearing so much, girly?" he breathed.

Hermione yanked her arm away, but the man's grip was strong. "I don't work here, but thank you."

The men laughed. Although the sound of the music was strong, they could hear each other clearly.

"What are you talkin' bout, babe? Of course you work here. Now come over here and let daddy take off some of your clothing!"

Hermione was seriously getting fed-up with people underestimating her. "Let bloody _go_ of me! I _don't_ work here and I need to do something!"

The men laughed again and the man gripping her gave her a tug, causing her to fall onto his lap. They burst into even more laughter as Hermione tried to struggle up, but his arms wrapped around her waist, pinning her on his lap.

"Come on sweetie, give me a little lap dance!"

Hermione had enough. She stopped struggling for a few seconds, and his grip loosened as he roared with laughter. She suddenly shoved her elbow back and as high as she could, and she felt it connect with the man's face with a satisfying thunk. He let out a stream of curses and unwrapped one arm from her stomach, batting her elbow away from his face. Exactly what she had expected; now she just needed to free his other arm without getting her free arm caught so she could reach her wand, and everything would be just dandy.

Hermione wasn't too terrified; she had been in situations like this before, especially when Ron and her had gone to the bar and he had gotten completely wasted, falling asleep. She would have to deal with drunk men _and _getting Ron home safely.

Because of her small stature, when she flung back her heel, it connected solidly with the man's shin. He let out a howl; Hermione had a rather powerful kick, and he shoved her off his lap quickly. She turned and slammed her now-free elbow into his crotch, which earned a strangled howl from the man. The other men sitting at the booth were harassed to help the first man and do something about the girl who had just beaten up their friend.

Hermione pulled out her wand, pointing it at the three men who were struggling to standing up from their places. The fourth was still rolling on the ground, clutching his goods. They pulled out their wands as well, and pointed them at her.

"You'll pay for what you did!" one man snapped.

"We're going to make you regret the day you were _born!"_ another shouted.

A hand grasped her ankle and Hermione saw her previous captor had crawled over to where she stood. She lashed out with her foot, kicking him square in the eye and feeling a crunch under her foot.

The three men took action.

They all yelled a hex or jinx, aiming at Hermione. Hermione blocked one with a flick of her wand as two hexes sailed past her and disappeared into the crowd behind them; people immediately turned around and began yelling.

'_Expelliarmus!" _Hermione shouted. "_Impedimenta!_"

The disarming spell she cast bounced off a jinx thrown at her; they collided and spiraled off somewhere to the left, where she heard the crash of breaking glass. People were quickly beginning to realize what was happening; yells and confusion was passing quickly over everybody. The bright lights of the jinxes, curses, hexes the three men were casting were sailing into the crowd behind and around her, stunning people left and right.

A hex sailed over Hermione's shoulder; great, the crowd was joining in. More and more people began firing curses, and the club was suddenly filled with the light of spells flying overhead.

One stunning spell deflected off a random jinx and flew straight towards the stage, where it hit a blonde woman straight in the chest, sending her flying backwards into two other women. By now, everybody knew what was going on – a _fight!_ Spells were being shot in every direction and shouting and yelling filled the club.

_So much for watching out for muggles, _Hermione thought dryly as she stunned a bearded man running past her by accident.

The three men had long been stunned; Hermione disarmed and hit two of them with well-aimed charms, but the last man had been hit by a stray hex that had sailed out of the roaring mob.

The bar had changed from a relaxed, sultry, dim-lighted place to relax to a throbbing mass of chaos. Stunned, cursed, jinxed and hexed men and women littered the floor around Hermione, along with beverages that had dropped, but more were still standing up and firing hexes at each other. _Nobody _knew what was going on and nobody knew _who_ they were aiming at, they just knew that someone had stunned the person beside them and they didn't want to be next. Even the women on stage were participating – they had drawn wands from exceedingly tight places and were screaming curses into the crowd. Two were already sprawled, out cold, on the wooden floor of the stage.

The music had also begun a new, fast paced beat and the strobe lights were flashing wildly, which just added to everybody's confusion and the general chaos. Hermione felt a curse fly over her shoulder; it had narrowly missed her – she was extremely only problem was that she didn't know _where _to aim or where to even look, people were running and shouting and curses were being shot from every possible direction. The club/bar was too dimly lit, still, to be able to see where anything was, although occasionally a bright enough spell would shot past her and illuminate things for a split second.

Hermione dropped onto her knees after just barley deflecting a purple jinx, sending it flying into a heavy set man who immediately had pustules form all over his face. She crouched behind an overturned table, feeling glass shards press and liquids seep into the fabric of her slacks.

_I really need new clothes,_ she thought detachedly from the chaos surrounding her. _These clothes are way gross. Too bad I never learnt how to adjust my clothes from Padma or Romilda…_

A curse slammed into the table, making it shudder. Hermione winced as the wooden underside of the table splintered into her hands, but she didn't want to move. Although Hermione was an excellent spell-caster, she didn't want to be in the darkness with enemies on all sides. Curses and jinxes were still flying overhead, and yelling and shouting was still clear in the air.

Hermione almost felt like laughing with the adrenaline that was coursing through her veins. She probably would have, if she hadn't realized what a serious situation she was really in. The damage, when the lights turned on, would probably be absolutely terrible, and there would be curious outsiders hearing the noise… People would be lying stunned on the floor. Maybe someone had gotten seriously _injured,_ too.

As soon as the thought escaped her mind, the music was suddenly unplugged and large, fluorescent lights were flickering overhead.

"EVERYBODY STOP!" a voice bellowed, magically made louder and laced with rage.

Hermione glanced over the table and saw, with a heart-stopping wrench, that it was Draco himself who was standing atop a table not very far from her with his wand pointed to his throat, magnifying his voice. His face was absolutely furious; his eyes were flashing dangerously and his mouth was set in a grim, tight line.

As if hearing the power laced in his voice, the jinxes and hexes swiftly stopped. People were looking around in confusion, surveying the damage that had been done. The entire floor was covered was _some_ kind of object, be it a body, shards of glass, unidentifiable broken objects, or pools of liquid. Tables had been blown apart, large shards of wood, glass and other objects were scattered around the floor. Half the fluorescent lights weren't working; they were hanging dangerously by a few chords, having probably been hit by stray jinxes. The walls of the club were covered in scorch marks and scratches, and some chunks of plaster had even crumbled to the floor.

"WHO… WHO STARTED THIS?" Draco roared. His free hand was clenched. "I HAD TO FUCKING STUN THE CLUB OWNER SO HE DIDN'T CALL THE FUCKING MINISTRY!"

Slowly, people's wands lowered and heads began looking at each other, peering around the room for anybody they recognized. Muttering began, buzzing around the destroyed club like flies. They were afraid to accuse each other, knowing that if they got the wrong person, another fight would break out. The women on the stage had all been stunned, and were lying slumped in awkward positions. Almost everyone still standing had scrapes or bruises or some kind of injury.

A large man with a purplish bruise over his face pointed at a man lying on the ground. Hermione glimpsed around the table the same man who had grabbed her and forced her to sit on him – yes; he had _definitely_ been the one who started it.

"I'm pretty sure he started it!" the large man said, adding a hasty "sir".

Draco, radiating power and anger, leapt off the table and swiftly made his way on the sticky ground to the unconscious man. He was coming closer to Hermione, but she didn't want to see him – she crouched lower behind the table and hoped that he hadn't seen her. He was scary when he was like this, and Hermione did not want to face him at the moment, not after everything that had happened.

Others began muttering in agreement, happy to have someone to place the blame on.

"I think he cursed a lady who didn't want to give him what he wanted," another man wheezed. "I'm purrrty sure I saw a woman and him arguing."

The buzz of agreement grew louder.

Draco leant over the man and whispered _rennervate _harshly, lifting him up by his collar roughly. He blinked groggily, and everybody seemed to be holding their breath.

"_Did you start this?!" _Draco snapped.

The man seemed to snap out of his confusion; he gave a sort of strangled gasp and grabbed his balls as if protecting them. Hermione smirked silently, watching the exchange from the side of the table. The man had a large bruise around his eye, and Hermione felt another surge of pleasure that her kick had been so powerful. A smaller bruise adorned his cheek bone from where she had elbowed him.

"No! No, no!" the man garbled, struggling slightly. "I swear, no, it wasn't me, it was a woman, a lady I d-don't know!"

Draco's eyes snapped up and he scanned the crowd for 'a lady'. There were no females that hadn't been stunned or jinxed. Hermione crouched, behind the overturned table, hidden by the shadow it cast and another table that blocked her from general view. Hermione felt a pang of guilt. She should probably turn herself in, but she didn't want to be held responsible for the whole mess…

"Who was it?!" Draco hissed, giving him a shake.

"Some short, b-brown haired chick!" the man whimpered. "Said she was looking for someone! I d-didn't start it, I swear!"

Draco let go of the man's collar, sending him tumbling back to the floor, where he groaned once but lay still, probably disorientated again. Draco scanned the crowd silently, his eyes passing over the table Hermione was crouched behind twice. She held her breath each time.

Hermione dared peek out once, to stare at Draco. He was dressed in his usual black pants and white, button down shirt, but she was surprised to see it untucked and completely open, revealing a broad chest and a sculpted stomach that continued into a narrow waist and disappeared into black pants. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the belt was undone and hanging loosely. What…?

Her answer came as a door she didn't even know was there opened to the far end of the club and a tall, beautiful woman sauntered out, wearing nothing but the tiniest black dress Hermione had ever seen.

"Draco, where'd you go? I was just beginning to have fun-" Her voice was low and husky, and almost everybody in the club turned to look at her in awe.

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her; she had _not_ been expecting a completely demolished club.

Hermione's heart froze over as the luscious woman slowly walked around to Draco and put her long, slender arm over his shoulders. She was gorgeous, with high, sculpted features and honey blonde hair. She was tall, but shorter than Draco. Together, standing together, they made the most beautiful couple Hermione had ever seen. The stunning woman must've been part-veela, because the men in the club were staring at her open-mouthed, entranced by her beauty.

"Melanie," Draco greeted roughly.

His features visibly relaxed as he scanned the crowd around him; Hermione noticed the woman purring words in his ear. Hermione felt her chest tighten. Had she ever affected him like that? Had her _presence _just relaxed him? Never.

_Why am I so affected by this? _Hermione snapped in her mind. _It's not like he was ever mine to begin with. IT'S NOT LIKE I EVER WANTED HIM ANYWAYS!_

She prepared to stand up and tell Draco that she had been the woman who the man had bothered, but as her head slowly emerged above the table, something caught her eye. The man who Draco had questioned was slowly pulling out his wand, his eyes trained on Draco. He had a fearful, confused look on his face, as if he believed his best shot at getting out of the mess was to stun Draco and then run.

He aimed at Draco and muttered something. Draco, whose eyes were on the other side of the room, suspected nothing. The crowd was just as oblivious, staring at Melanie, the beautiful woman, with awe.

"_Expulso!" _

"_Expelliarmus!" _

Two spells were fired at once. The man's disarming curse was feeble, slow and no match for Hermione's well aimed exploding spell, which swallowed the other spell with a shower of sparks and hit a surprisingly untouched bottle of wine rolling on the floor in front of the man. The bottle promptly exploded in the man's face, causing him to scream out as glass shards pierced his face.

Draco whipped around and stared at the moaning man, who had blood dripping down his face from a large gash above his eyebrow, thanks to a shard of glass. The bleeding man looked around blindly until his eyes met with Hermione's.

"_YOU!" _the man screamed, pointing his wand at Hermione and managing to look furious but extremely scared at the same time.

"What!" Hermione snapped.

"Who is _she?"_ Melanie scoffed, taking in Hermione's rather unimpressive appearance.

Draco, however, was staring at Hermione in complete shock.

"_Granger?_" he said, his eyes flooding with emotion she could not name.

"You _know_ her?" Melanie said, peering down her nose at Hermione who stood as proud as she could. Melanie seemed to be trying to forget about the destruction around her.

Hermione felt her stomach heaving but for some reason she felt like bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Did she actually just annihilate an entire club? Since when did the perfect Hermione Granger do this?

"Malfoy," Hermione said slowly.

Draco's head whipped from the bleeding man to Hermione and back to the bleeding man.

"She… you tried… to make her do something against her will?" Draco demanded, turning on the man.

The bleeding man gave Hermione the dirtiest stare he could, although his hands were warily protecting his crotch. "It's not that fucking big! The stupid slut just wouldn't give me a lap dance!" he snapped.

Draco, whose eyes had gone mysteriously dark and stormy, moved with astonishing speed. One second he was standing next to the beautiful woman, three paces away from the man, and the next second he was aiming a brutal kick into his side.

"Who the _fuck _do you think you are?!" Draco roared.

The man screamed as Draco mercilessly beat him, cowering behind his hands, pleading. "Please don't hurt me! Please!"

Melanie screamed and ran through the open door of the club, and a second later, the remaining men were following Melanie dumbly, and it was just Draco, Hermione, the bleeding man, and unconscious bodies.

"Stop it!" Hermione cried, not being able to stand Draco's assault. "_Stop hurting him!" _

Draco paused, looking up at Hermione. His eyes were laced with anger, the only emotion she was able to read. "_YOU!" _he roared. "You could've been _killed!" _

Hermione began backing away at his tone – it was livid and filled with uncontrollable anger. What was wrong? Why was he so angry -

He charged towards her and grabbed her wrist, turning on the spot. Hermione let out a hiss of pain as her stomach wrenched in pain, and her world went black.

***

Hermione awoke on a comfortable, white bed. The sheets were crisp under her fingers and the pillow was light and fluffy. A thin sheet was covering her, but it wasn't cold so it was all right. Light was blinking against her eyelids but she was blissfully content. She felt a comforting presence next to her, something that told her that she wouldn't be hurt, and that it would look after her always…

Her eyes snapped open and she found herself staring into the deep, stormy grey eyes that could only be found on one person's face. As a reflex, she shot up, slamming her forehead against his. Blinding pain.

"Fuck!" an unmistakable voice swore, and the face looming above hers swayed out of view.

"Owww!" Hermione groaned, falling back onto the pillow. "Merlin's beard!"

Draco Malfoy was sitting in a chair across from the bed she was laying on, rubbing his forehead and looking murderous. She checked her surroundings while trying to quell the pain. She was obviously in a motel room; it had the motel-smell and looked like a bedroom found in a cheap motel. The walls and the floors were all wood, and there was a little door at the end, which Hermione assumed led to the bathroom.

Hermione propped herself up on her elbows, feeling pain shoot up in her stomach and flare in her head, where she had slammed it against Draco's forehead. _Draco. _Her eyes involuntarily sought his out, but she only met his lowered head. He was sitting on the bed next to hers, his head in his hands, and long blond strands of hair framing his face.

He lifted his face and his eyes met hers, holding them in a unbreakable grip. The silence was tense and awkward, and Hermione gnawed her lip anxiously. Should she break the silence? Should she say something? _What?_

Fortunately and unfortunately, Draco broke the silence.

"What are you _doing?" _he said, his voice low and controlled. "Do you _know_ what you're doing?"

"I'm not doing anything?" she replied stupidly, nervously.

_Did I do something wrong? Why is he so _mad_ at me? I'm not doing anything?_

Draco stood up; turning away from her so all she could see was his back. When he spoke, his voice was so soft she could almost missed it.

"What are you doing to me?" he whispered. "_What are you doing to me?" _

Hermione's heart stopped and something erupted in her stomach, flooding up and obstructing her throat. No… she must've heard wrong… there was no possible way Draco Malfoy just admitted what she _thought_ he had, was there?

"What?" Hermione said, her voice strained and just as soft. "_What?" _

Draco turned back, and Hermione saw something flash in his eyes as they caught her gaze, and they just stared at each other for a while. Draco completely ignored her question, finally speaking.

"Why are you still on my ship?" he asked, but his tone wasn't harsh, just curiously thoughtful. "Why are you still here? You've done possibly _everything _wrong, you've had over three chances to escape – yes, I've been counting – but you haven't left. You've poisoned yourself, you learnt about a monster you never knew about, and you've completely destroyed a club."

Hermione lifted her chin in defiance. "I want to help heal Paul," she said slowly. "I promised I would and I don't break promises."

He looked at her as if seeing her in a whole new light before turning away thoughtfully. "You destroyed a _whole_ club, and you hardly got a scratch."

Hermione found his incredulously surprised yet slightly impressed voice extremely hilarious, and her face broke out into a sheepish grin. "I _did_ obliterate that club, didn't I? I didn't mean for anything to get that far. I just wanted that man to let go of me…"

Draco turned and faced her, and she was surprised to see his own lips quirking in a small smile. "You can only imagine what I felt like when I came outside and everything was chaotic, curses flying everywhere and people yelling and shouting."

Hermione couldn't help a little chuckle escape her lips. "And the _look_ of that man after I dealt with him."

Draco's smile grew more pronounced, and it took Hermione's breath away. He was handsome when he was scowling, but when he smiled, it was absolutely angelic. It lit up all his features beautifully, making everything around him seem to dull in comparison. Hermione had never, ever seen this kind of smile on Draco before.

"You got had me tied with worry," he said softly, his lips still pulled up in that smile, although now it was laced with a twisted sadness, as if he didn't want to acknowledge what he had just said. "I was so worried you had been hurt…"

Hermione's heart stuttered painfully for the second time that hour, and a brilliant smile stretched slowly over her features, one she couldn't control. He cared for her. He really, truly did. Although it was just a tiny little confession, it felt like the world coming from Draco Malfoy. He was being so kind, so gentle. It explained everything; the relief when he hadn't seen her unconscious body lying in the club, the way he had been so furious at her for putting herself in danger…

Slowly, laughter – joyous, happy laughter bubbled up in Hermione's stomach and leaked out her throat; laughter at the unbelievable situation she found herself in. She was on an island she had never heard of, stuck on _Draco Malfoy's _ship, she started a fight in a club, which ended up with the whole thing being destroyed, and she felt butterflies in her stomach every time her ex-arch enemy spoke.

The laughter wouldn't stop, and soon Draco's sad, twisted smile was replaced with one of laid-back happiness as Hermione's breathless laughter filled the room. With the small gesture of contentment in his presence, the tense relationship between captor and captive changed. Something was eased out between them, as if seven years of hating each other was suddenly wiped off the slate; they were ready to start again.

And Draco wouldn't admit it, of course, but he found himself lost in the sound of Hermione's laughter. He held her in his eyes with a whole new perspective.

Hermione knew then that she couldn't be mad at him. The thought of the beautiful Melanie and the fact that Draco made her _so_ angry was still in the back of her mind, and her doubts were still strong and fresh. But for some reason, Hermione wanted more than anything to get to know him better, and if taking it step by step she would be able to do that – well, she wouldn't ask for anything more.

***

**Reviews**

**Boylover19:** Here's your chapter (: and I hope you liked it.

**.Poisoned Scarlet.:** Aw shucks :] well I came upon this awesome picture of a kraken, I'll see if I can put it up on my account or something. Here's your update, and I'm sorry it's so late. Hope you still liked it though :\

**BroadwayNightOwl**: AHH yes I know, right!? :D Oh yes, Draco is heartless, but that's the way I always saw his character, you know? Never being really the tender one… but I'm trying to get him to be gentle without making him suddenly switch personalities. I'm not sure it's quite working but I'm trying my best :P

**Lya Darkfury**: Hahhah thank you! I was thinking about making it a sex scene, until I remembered that I honestly have no clue how to write one of those and plus, what would happen after? I'm not sure how they would treat each other if they had confused-feeling-sex and I _sort_ of have an outline that has no sex until they actually realize they're falling for each other, haha. And plus, sucking out poison doesn't seem that much of a turn-on, you know? Thank you (:

**Aerde**: Thank you thank you! I love jealousy. It's such a fun feeling to write about, seeing as I'm rather used to the feeling, haha. No problem about the son, I say that sometimes. Like, WHADDUP SON (please don't think I'm too weird).

**Jade2099**: Thank you thank you! And I really have no clue I kind write as it comes with me, tweaking ideas here and there.. I hope it all works out but it's all up to my little muse, haha. Thank you anyways!

**In Dreams:** Thank youu (: the kraken doesn't have much of a appearance in this chapter, but there will be soon.

**Tyrande Whisperwind**: Thank you! And I do love cliffhangers (: but I think I ended this chapter on a nice note, and I hope you like it.

**Xxkandyangelxx**: Thank you father (get it, you called me "son" so I call you father) Yes I know it was probably a typo but I'm in a weird/good mood now. Here (:

**Red24ly:** Thank you thank you thank you and here is your update, sorry it took so long I hope it meets standards!

**Cat18:** Yes, I do love kind Draco (: here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoyed it!

***

THANK YOU EVERYBODY.


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